Wounds
by speedreader1999
Summary: Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff have been to hell and back, but they have never given up. When Loki tore them apart invisible scars were left behind, nightmares becoming a part of daily life. Can they fix each other? *Collection of One-Shots, Complete*
1. Jealous

Clint Barton was not one to be jealous. He was generally a nice man, considering he had been raised to kill with an arrow and bow.

That all changed when he met Natasha Romanoff.

When other men stared at her, he wanted to shot an arrow through their eye sockets. When she smiled at another man, he wished so badly it was him.

* * *

After Loki had been taken away by SHIELD agents, Tony turned and looked at the group. "Shawarma everyone?"

Thor spoke up. "What is this, shawarma?"

Bruce let out a chuckle. "It's an Arab dish with lamb, chicken, turkey, and beef are placed in pita."

Thor chocked his head. "What is this 'pita' you speak of?"

"It's a type of bread," Nat said.

Surprised, Clint looked at her. She had been silent this entire time, collapsing into a chair once Loki was gone. He could tell she was exhausted, but something was deeply bothering her. A hunch told him it had something to do with what happened while he was . . . a captive, per say.

Tony cleared his throat. Well, as much as you can clear your throat in a metal suit. "Again, who wants to eat?"

The Captain held up a hand. "I'm fine."

The other Avengers added their murmurs, and Tony started walked towards the door. Jarvis spoke up. "Sir?"

"Yes, Jarvis?"

Thor whipped his head around, trying to figure where the disembodied voice was coming from. He raised his hammer. "WHAT MANNER OF SORCERY IS THIS?" he bellowed, causing Clint to cover his ears and Natasha flinch.

Clint frowned. _What happened? She wasn't scared of anything before. Why now? What really happened? _He was aching to know.

The billionaire let out a laugh. "Thor, it's my AI system."

"What is this AI you speak of?"

Tony managed to hide his laughter. "It's an artificial intelligence system."

Steve frowned. "Give the guy a break. He hasn't been around this stuff."

Tony's eyebrows rose. "Oh? And you have?"

Before an argument could start, Banner stepped forward. "Let's just go. I'm hungry, and you don't want to keep the . . . other guy, waiting."

After that, everyone nearly ran to the elevator except Tony, who changed out of his armor first. Then he ran.

When they reached the shawarma place it was surprisingly intact, considering New York had just been attacked from a bunch of aliens of outer space. There were a few customers. Tony ushered them to a table, one that just fit six people. However, two of those people were a demigod and a super soldier. Not a very comfortable space.

A waiter came up to us. He had a few tattoos, pierced ears, and the thing that irked me most of all; he was staring at Natasha.

Clint clenched his fists when it was Nat's turn to order. However, she didn't move. Didn't even blink. He placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to flinch, but she didn't remove her gaze from the table.

Turning to the waiter, he placed an order for both of them. The waiter nodded and shot one last longing look at Natasha. Clint's blood boiled, and he had had enough.

Without alerting the other Avengers, he placed his foot on his partner's chair. She looked up at him, her eyes questioning. He shrugged at her and leaned back in his chair, watching out of the corner of his eye as the waiter glared at him. He inwardly smiled to himself.

The food arrived pretty quickly, and everyone gulped it down, Clint started to, then noticed Natasha wasn't eating. He placed his hand on her again, once more causing her to flinch. It was starting to bug him. He wanted to know what was wrong.

"Natasha," he said gently, "The food's here."

To his eye, the other Avengers didn't take notice.

* * *

The first time Tony Stark saw Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton together, he was jealous. That's right. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist Tony Stark, was jealous.

He saw a bond between them. From the way Natasha acted, she had been through so much. Clint looked the same way.

The bond was unwavering, never broken. However, he was curious about Budapest. He had heard Clint mention it over the link while they were fighting, and it was bugging him. He cleared his throat. "Clint, what happened in Budapest?"

The response was immediate. Natasha stopped breathing and Clint shot a death glare at him. Tony shrugged. "What happened?"

Clint placed a hand on the table, and Tony noticed it was clenched into a fist. "None of your business, Stark," he growled.

Then, Tony looked at Natasha. She wasn't mad, from what he could tell, but was slightly shaking instead. An instinct told him to inquire further. "Romanoff? What happened?"

She gulped, and her breaths were coming in short gasps. The other members of the team hadn't taken notice. Yet.

Clint gave him another death glare. "Drop it, or I'll pretend you're Loki and shot an arrow through your eye socket."

Tony pretended to look scared, but inside he was curious. What had happened there that made the two assassins act like that?

* * *

Bruce Banner was a scientist. He had created the Hulk. He was a doctor, although not on paper. He had helped many people, but was hopeless at love. Dating? Awful. The Hulk usually ruined it. Marriage? Out of the question.

He met Natasha for the first time when she confronted him, paying a young girl to lead him to the edge of the city. He had studied her, trying to confirm he could trust her.

Her body language suggested he could, but there was something deeper. Something more emotional.

Every since second he's been around her, he's been studying her. He could feel Clint glaring at him, but he didn't care. He needed to solve this . . . mystery.

He faintly noticed Tony talking about something, but whatever he said, Natasha reacted. Her breathing became shallow and she looked scared out of her mind.

Then it hit him. Everything he's been thinking about? It's science. He's a doctor, not one to study emotions or become a therapist.

She was in love.

Multiple calculations ran through his mind. She was at loss when he met her, because someone was missing in her life. She only mentioned that one of their own had been taken, despite there being at least three.

She was in love with Clint Barton.

He let out a small chuckle, causing the Captain to look strangely at him. _What she doesn't know is that Clint Barton is in love with her too. _

* * *

Before Thor stepped foot on Midgard, or Earth, he had not known of love. He had courted many ladies, considering he was the prince of Asgard. But he found true love in Jane Foster.

He studied two of his companions. The first time he saw them together, he was struck by their invisible bond. They had been through so much together, Thor could tell. A bond like that was unbreakable.

Then Loki came along.

Agent Barton had been turned into a mindless minion. From the SHIELD video files he had watched, he had seen how they fought, how he tried to kill her. He had heard the promise his brother had made to the red haired lady.

Looking at her now, pale and weak, Thor realized something. She was unable to understand why Loki would do this.

Their eyes met, and Thor remembered the words of his brother.

_"I won't barter Barton! Not until I make him kill you. Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear. And then he'll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screaming I'll split his skull! That is my bargain, you mewling quim!" Loki smiled. _

_ "You're a monster." Natasha's voice was weak. _

Thor shook it out of his head, trying to get that awful memory away.

* * *

Captain Steve Rodgers was a soldier. Nothing more, nothing less. At least, until he met Peggy.

He remember her being beautiful and kind. When he crashed into the ocean, her face never left him. He went under and she never forgot about him. He had read SHIELD's files. She had died, never married. Still waiting.

It had pained him when he came up. Everything he knew was gone. His world; gone. This was the modern age. There was no need for old fashioned stars and stripes.

When Fury had appeared on a mission, he knew the teseract was dangerous. He told Fury that they should have left it in the ocean. He should have kept it out of the wrong hands, before someone killed to get it.

He was too late.

As he looked at his . . . team, he pondered them. Thor was a mythical god. Tony was a billionaire super hero. Bruce was a lab mistake. And himself? Tony was right. Everything special about him came out of a bottle.

Then there were the assassins, the deadly duo. They were inseparable. When he was out of the super hero life for a little after getting back on his feet, he had heard stories on the news about them. They were supposedly unstoppable.

Then Clint was taken. Turned into a mindless slave. He watched as Agent Romanoff, Natasha, had been broken. When he met her, there was something wrong. When Clint joined her again, there was a certain spring in her step.

Now that the battle was over, Natasha had slipped. He had a feeling Loki had done something to her. He had a feeling it had to do with Clint. He stared at her and saw her shift uncomfortably.

He let out a chuckle. He had just noticed that Agent Barton's leg was on her chair, and his hand on her shoulder.

* * *

Natasha was broken.

Loki had taken all she had worked for. He made Barton attack her, almost killing her. He had almost done what he was supposed to do when they first met.

It had shaken her. She was supposed to be strong, unbreakable. That was what she had trained for in the Red Room. What months and years of torture had taught her.

It was all unraveled with a matter of days.

Fury had placed her in Russia for a mission. She had gladly accepted, but was a little upset her partner wasn't coming with her. When she received a call twenty four hours later that he had been compromised, she wasn't too happy.

Something had ached inside her. She told herself it was nothing more than a partner missing a partner, and friend missing a friend. Her heart told her more.

She was in love with Clint Barton.

She tried to fight it. But every time, she failed. When she was busy beating up Russians, he never left her mind. The call changed everything.

It was poor luck that she had to hit him on the head to get him out of Loki's control. When he woke up, he was depressed that he had killed so many people. SHIELD agents had died because of him. Innocent people too.

Natasha had tried to comfort him, but she couldn't get through.

He would never love her back.

Those words ran through her mind as a small tear slipped down her face.

* * *

Clint stared at his partner as a tear ran down her face. Not thinking, he reached over and wiped it away with his thumb. He could feel the other Avenger's staring in shock, but he didn't care.

Her green eyes met his hazel ones, and he could almost feel her shock. She let out a small smile though.

Suddenly, Clint found it hard to breathe. He stood up quickly. "I'd better head back to SHIELD."

He started to leave, but Tony called him back. "Wait!"

Clint looked back to find all of the Avengers staring. "Yes?"

Tony motioned for the archer to sit back down, and he complied. Tony cleared his throat. "Well, I have a proposal for everyone. As we all know, Fury has made us the Avengers. I see that as we must stick together."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "You really want to keep me in New York? The last time I was here I kind of broke Harlem."

Tony nodded. "I remember. Anyway, I think you should all come live with me at Stark tower, which coincidently now has just an 'A' on it."

He was met with silence. They were all looking at each other, except for Agent Romanoff, who was staring at Clint. Clint however, was avoiding her gaze.

Steve spoke up. "For one, I agree with Tony."

Clint looked at Thor, and he was nodding too. "I will stay with the metal man and his invisible friend when I am at Midgard."

That brought a smile to Clint's face. Bruce answered next. "I don't know, I mean-"

"Bruce," Tony interrupted. "It'll be like candy land. I promise a stress free environment."

Bruce snorted. "Last time you said that, you poked me with a short electric rod."

"True, but I think you should give it a chance."

Bruce sighed. "The other guy wants to. However, if anything goes wrong, I'm leaving. No exceptions."

Tony nodded and turned to Clint. "Clint?"

Clint looked at Natasha. They locked eyes. "Ваш звонок. Я буду следовать," she said softly.

The other Avengers looked confused, but Clint broke out into a smile. Turning to Tony, he responded. "We're in."

Tony tilted his head slightly, making him look like he had a bigger head than normal. "I wasn't asking for both of you, but okay! Everyone done with their shawarma?"

Steve laughed. "You really like saying shawarma, don't you?"

Tony nodded. "Yep. Shawarma, shawarma, shaw-arma. Now it's old."

We all looked at each other and burst into laughter. Even Natasha let out a small laugh.

* * *

Later that night, everyone was exhausted. Tony had given them all rooms on one floor, just until the tower was finished. Clint and Natasha had stopped by the helicarrier to get their clothes, and Clint had hated it. Everyone had stared at him, making him feel like he really was the enemy.

Natasha had acted like a robot all afternoon, only speaking if necessary. Director Fury had pulled him aside just before they had to leave.

_"Agent Barton, do you know what's wrong with Romanoff?"_

_ Clint shrugged. "Honestly sir . . . I don't know. She's been acting like this ever since the battle ended."_

_ Fury looked around. "Just make sure she's okay."_

_ "I promise you, I will."_

_ The director slipped something from his pocket. "This is against SHIELD policy, but I believe you should see this."_

_ In his hand he was holding a simple disk. Clint took it, cautious. "What is it?"_

_ "Watch it later. You'll find out."_

Clint sat on his bed, staring at the disk. It was almost midnight and everyone had gone to bed. It was silent.

Clint pulled his laptop out of his bag, turned it on, and popped the disk in.

It was blank for a second, then everything came into focus. Clint clenched his fists as Loki came into view, pacing inside a glass cage. Suddenly he froze, and a smile appeared on his evil face. "There's not many people that can sneak up on me."

Clint paused, wondering who he was talking to. Then, he heard a voice as they stepped into view. "But you figured I'd come."

Clint watched as Natasha talked to the villain, begging Loki to spare him. She claimed it was for a debt, but he could tell even Loki knew that debt was long overdue.

He wanted to slap Loki as he threatened to make Clint kill her. It broke his heart as she turned away. After a few moments she passed it off like she was faking for information, but he knew better.

The disk went blank, leaving Clint in darkness.

He was angry at her for bargaining for him. As Loki said, the fate of the world in the balance, and she bargains for one man.

On the other hand, he was secretly leaping for joy. This showed she really cared about him. Thoughts raced through his mind as he opened his door. Natasha's was right next to him. He knocked. There was no answer, so he opened the door.

To his surprise, it was not locked. He wanted in, letting moonlight spill over the sleeping red head. Her curls were spread across the pillow, making her look like an angel.

As he approached the bed, he could see her shivering. Her breathing was shallow, and she was whimpering. Clint placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "Nat, wake up."

She froze, then sat up. "Clint? What are you doing here?" She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "It's almost midnight."

He sat on the right side of her bed as she adjusted herself so she was sitting against the headboard. "Natasha," he said slowly. "I saw the file."

Her face filled with confusion. "What file?"

"Why did you bargain for me?"

Her face went pale. "Oh. That file."

There was silence for a moment, before Clint spoke up again. "What did I do to you?"

She flinched again. "I'm not going to tell you."

Clint fought the urge to punch something. "Damn it, just tell me!"

Nat took a deep breath. "You'll only blame yourself," she said softly. "I'm not going to allow that to happen."

"Please." His voice was quiet. "I want to know what happened."

Nat nodded slowly. She lifted up her tank top up to an inch above her bellybutton, and a black and purple bruise lay there.

Clint froze. "Anything else?"

She turned and he saw a gash on her left shoulder. Then she lifted her chin up and he saw another small gash, just below her neck.

His heart felt like it was breaking. "Nat, I'm so-"

She cut him off. "You shouldn't blame yourself. This was Loki."

Clint felt like it was heard to breathe. "Why didn't I fight back?" he asked himself. "Why didn't I?"

Natasha sat there, sadness in her eyes. "Clint. Listen to me. Loki did this. He killed people, not you."

He wasn't listening. "I'm so sor-"

Natasha slapped him on the arm.

He looked at her and she was furious. "Clint Barton, stop the pity party and listen up." He nodded, scared she would whip out one of the guns he knows she keeps underneath her pillow. "This was Loki. You didn't do anything wrong."

Clint gulped. "Nat, I-"

She slapped her hand over his mouth. "You did nothing wrong. I got hurt, I'm fine. I get hurt whenever we got on missions. I'll always be fine."

He moved her hand off of him. "But what if one day you aren't? What is I had killed you?"

"All I hear is what ifs. Look at the now. I'm alive. You're alive."

Clint sighed. "I guess you're right."

She gave him a small smile. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

Clint looked around. "In here?"

Nat laughed. "Did you not see the giant flat screen TV in the other room? We could just turn the sound down low enough so the others can't hear."

He stood up and offered her his hand. "My lady," he joked, trying to ignore the feeling of guilt in his stomach when she winced as she got out of bed.

Seeing him staring, she wagged a finger. "Clint. I'll be fine. You probably got more hurt than I did."

They walked into the living room, trying to be as quiet as possible. He led her to the couch while he looked at the movies. "So, what do you want to want?"

"Do they have the Brave? I think we need something a little lighthearted."

Clint laughed and slid the DVD in. He turned it down and pressed play.

The main character appeared, Merida. He let out a chuckle. _Red hair and good with a bow. Perfect combination of Nat and I. _Then he swallowed, realizing what he had just thought.

"Clint," she called softly. "Are you coming to the couch?"

He turned, trying not to let her see his embarrassment. He hopped beside her. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he smiled a little, trying to ignore the racing of his heart. Without moving her, he grabbed a blanket and placed it over them.

* * *

"Tony, they're going to kill you."

"Relax, they'll never know."

"They'll find out. And then they'll kill you."

Clint heard the click of a cell phone camera, and opened his eyes.

Tony was standing there, cell phone in mid air, while Steve was leaning in the doorway, a slightly amused expression on his face. When Tony saw Clint's eyes were open, he whipped the phone out of sight and nervously wave. "Um, hi Clint!"

Clint narrowed his eyes. "Why were you taking pictures of me?"

Tony let out a small laugh. "Um . . . what pictures?"

Suddenly, Clint realized something was different than last night. He was lying sideways, and Natasha was sleeping next to him, his arm around her waist. Their hands were together.

Eyes widening, Clint got up as quietly and gently as possible and looked at Tony, who was trying to sneak out of the room unnoticed. "Tony, give me your phone."

Tony laughed nervously, his eyes looking for a way out. "Um, gotta run!"

Clint growled and considering chasing after him, but turned to Natasha instead. She looked as peaceful and quiet. Sighing, he walked over to her and picked her up, holding her in his arms. Ignoring the amused looks from the Captain, he walked to her room and placed her on her bed, sliding the covers over her.

He crept out a quiet as a mouse, closed the door, then spoke. "JARVIS, where is Tony?"

"He is currently in his lab, hiding behind a generator."

Chuckling, Clint made his way down there. Tony was unsuccessfully trying to hide, but when he saw Clint he froze. "Uh . . . hi! Gotta run!"

Tony tried to slip past him but he grabbed the billionaire by the back of his shirt. "I'm not going to kill you."

Tony stopped struggling and looked at him. "You're not?" he said suspiciously.

"Nope. But as soon as Tasha wakes up, you're a dead man."

Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of Natasha's voice echoed throughout the floor. "HE DID WHAT?! I'M GONNA KILL THAT MAN! YOU BETTER RUN, ANTHONEY STARK!"

Tony's eyes widened and he burst off in the other direction, leaving Clint chuckling. _There's the Tasha I love. _


	2. Love Is For Children

Shawarma.

When Tony had first mentioned it, I had been confused. Then I saw the other Avengers nod and I realized this was something they had talked about beforehand.

We sat down in seats and Clint leaned back in his chair, exhausted. I smiled a little while our food arrived.

Then Clint put his leg on my chair.

I froze, flinching a little. I could tell he noticed and that his eyes were on me, but I refused to meet his gaze. He nudged me with his foot. "Что не так?" he asked. (What's wrong?)

I looked into his eyes. They still had a hint of electric blue, but I could see it shrinking. I searched his face. "Оставьте меня в покое." (Leave me alone)

He nudged me again, this time noticeably more gentle. "Nat," he said softly.

I looked around. The other Avengers weren't watching. Steve was falling asleep, Tony was staring into the distance, Thor was just eating, and Bruce was staring at Steve.

Then I noticed a book on Clint's lap. "What are you reading?"

He gave me a suspicious look. "Что случилось, мой паук?" (What's wrong, my spider?)

I sighed. "Хватит болтать," I muttered a little harshly. (Stop talking)

Clint sighed and turned back to his book.

It was fairly quiet; I think we were the only people in New York who had thought to go out for food after an alien invasion. Suddenly I stiffened. Someone was watching me, and it wasn't Clint. I knew his gaze, as weird as that sounded.

I looked up and saw Tony looking at me. His eyes were unreadable, and his mouth was set in a firm line. He saw that I had found he was watching me; he turned away and cleared his throat. "Okay Avengers, how-"

Clint looked up, and I could see he was annoyed. "What did you call us?"

Tony smirked. "You're a SHIELD agent. You should know."

From the look on Clint's face, he wasn't amused. "I'm sorry, I was behind held captive by an evil god for the last few days, and apparently I've missed out on a few things." He let out a hallow laugh and stood up. "Now if you'll excuse me."

The moment he left I kicked Tony in the shins. He yelped. "What was that for, Natasha?"

I clenched my fists, trying not to punch the billionaire in the face. "Never call me Natasha. To you, I'm Romanoff."

"Clint calls you Natasha."

I stiffened. "Clint's different."

Tony laughed. I knew he was trying to get under my skin. "What, is he your boyfriend or something?"

I didn't know how to respond to that; luckily, I didn't have to. An arrow embedded itself in the table right next to Tony, and he automatically flinched.

I hid a smile and looked up. Clint was nowhere in sight, but I could almost sense him.

Tony looked at me again. "Geez, your boyfriend's rough!"

I sighed. "First of all, he's not my boyfriend. Second of all, be careful. That next arrow might actually hit you."

Tony didn't say another word.

Now it was Steve's turn to speak up. "What were you saying about the Avengers, Tony?"

Stark shot a glance at me. "Before Katniss got crazy and shot me," he looked around, "I was thinking of having you all move into my place."

Bruce snorted. "Why would you want that?"

"Fury called us all together for a reason. He wants us to become the Avengers."

"You want us to come and live in your dwelling?" Thor asked.

"Yea Hercules."

Thor and Steve looked confused. "Who is this Hercules you speak of?"

For some reason, all the men looked at me. I shrugged. "I was raised in Russia. We didn't watch kid movies."

Tony sighed. "We are having a serious movie marathon after this. Anyway, I think we need to live together."

I laughed. "You already have one lady Stark; you really want five more?"

Thor looked confused. "There is only one lady at the table here, Miss Romanoff, and that is you."

Tony rolled his eyes. "She knows that. She's being funny. Before I was rudely interrupted, I think it's a good idea. I have plenty of empty floors. You could all have your own."

"I could use a change of scenery. Besides, apparently Fury thinks I need to get out more," Steve said.

Bruce sighed. "The . . . other guy, is telling me yes. My instincts tell me no."

Tony slapped Bruce on the back. Everyone at the table flinched. "Are you nuts?" Steve asked.

Stark rolled his eyes, but I spoke first. "That's a matter of opinion."

There was silence, but everyone burst out laughing. Except for Tony, of course. He was scowling. "All right princesses, are you in or not?"

Bruce chuckled. "Count me in. But the moment something goes wrong with the Hulk, I'm leaving."

"I'm in," Steve said.

"I will stay at your giant building while I am at Midgard," Thor added.

All eyes swiveled to me. "What about you and Katniss?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "I'd say yes, but Clint's his own person. Ask him."

"When would I do that?"

I looked up. "Как насчет сейчас? Он прямо позади вас." (How about now? He's right behind you)

Tony looked puzzled. "I speak many languages, but Russian is not one of them."

Bruce pointed. "She's saying he's right behind you."

"You speak Russian?"

I laughed. "Turn around, genius."

Tony swerved around, only to meet Clint's glare. Clint walked and sat down in his previous chair next to me. "Have a nice walk?"

Clint nodded stiffly. "I shot a few things. May or may not have broken another window."

I smiled and Tony spoke. "Will you live at Avenger's tower? Everyone else already agreed?"

Clint looked at me again. "Вы думаете, что это хорошая идея, Таша?" (You think it's a good idea, Tasha?)

I nodded. "Yes," I said softly.

The rest of the table was watching us. "So, can you say your answer in English?"

Clint smirked. "Give me a language you understand."

Tony counted off on his fingers. "Chinese, Spanish, Arabic, French, Italian and Hebrew."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "How did you learn all those languages?"

Tony smiled. "When your CEO is also your girlfriend, she makes you learn a lot."

"Très bien. Mais je vais te tuer si tu me gênent. La même chose vaut pour Nat." (All right. But I will kill you if you annoy me. The same goes for Nat.)

I knew a few languages, but French wasn't one of them. My eyes narrowed when I heard my name. Tony threw his hands up in the air. "How come he gets to call you Nat?"

I just smiled. "What did you say?" I asked Clint.

He responded by taking a bite of his shawarma.

Tony grinned. "Le Hawk a une copine!" he almost sang. (The Hawk has a girlfriend!)

I saw Clint clench a fist. "Shut it, Stark."

Now I was curious. "What'd the idiot say?"

Tony stopped humming. "I was going to tell you, but since you're so rude, I'm not going to."

"I'll find out sooner or later," I threatened. "You don't want to make an assasian mad."

"Or the assassin's boyfriend," Stark muttered.

The result; Clint and I both drew our weapons. I pulled my gun out of it's holster and Clint pulled out his bow and arrows.

Tony froze and stared and the weapons. "Okay, okay! Let's just go back to the tower everyone."

I lowered my weapons, but Clint didn't. "Katniss, lower your weapon," Tony said nervously.

"Clint," Bruce said. "Come on."

He didn't do anything. I sighed. "Clint, put down the bow."

He grunted and put it down, much to the surprise of everyone at the table. We all stood up and Tony thew some money on the table to pay.

When we walked outside, I thought of something. "Uh, Tony?"

"Yes my spider?"

I rolled my eyes, but Clint stiffened. "Shut it, Stark," he growled.

I looked at him, surprised with the amount of anger in his voice. Tony raised an eyebrow. "Possessive much?"

When I saw Clint's hand reach for the stun gun in his left pocket, I decided to put an end to it. "As much as I would love to see Stark learn a lesson," I glanced at my partner, "We need to get going. Go you guys want to walk or do you want to take turns having the demigod flying you to the tower?"

"Walk," Stark imeditaly said. The others agreed and we started the long trek home.

Home. It was an unfamiliar word. I had never had a home, always on missions. SHIELD helicarrier was a place where I slept, but it wasn't a home.

We were almost to Stark Tower when a sudden jolt of pain ran through my leg. I hissed as I fell on my knees. The pain was spreading through my body, hurting like hades. My eyes shut and my teeth were clenched.

I heard Clint beside me almost imeditaly. "Tasha, what's wrong?"

His voice was faded. "Pain," I whispered. "Right leg. Everywhere. Clint." I hated it. My voice was so weak.

I felt someone pick me up in their arms, but something was wrong. It wasn't Clint. Another pain shot through me and I groaned, unable to help myself.

I felt the person carrying me start to walk faster. "We're almost there," Steve muttered. "Hang on Natasha."

Black enveloped me.

* * *

"Is she going to be alright?"

"She's going to be fine. There was a bullet in her leg, and a bad gash infecting it."

"Where could she have gotten it from?"

I groaned, causing the talking to cease. Imeditaly I felt a hand in mine. "Natasha," Clint said softly. "How you feeling?"

I didn't respond, pretending to be asleep. There was a sigh as Bruce spoke. "I'm sorry, Clint. She's not awake."

There was a pause. "She's awake. She just doesn't want to talk to me."

"You don't know that-"

"I do. I've known her for a long time. On missions I watched her breathing patterns. She's faking."

There was another pause, and I felt Clint's lips on my forehead. It was almost enough for me stop pretending, but I didn't. I didn't want to talk to him. _The wound came from him. _

There was a door quietly shutting, and I risked opening my eyes. Bruce was standing nearby, watching. He smiled. "How are you feeling?"

I sat up slowly. "What happened?"

"You fainted. The Captain carried you back to the tower and I immediately started to cure you."

I sighed and looked down. "How's Clint?"

"He hasn't left your side." Bruce paused. "Did you hear what he said?"

I bit my lip. "Yea."

"Why did you pretend to be asleep?"

"I didn't want to talk to him."

"Why not?" Bruce asked.

I took a deep breath. "Clint gave me the wound," I said softly. "When he wasn't himself, he caused the gash."

"And the bullet?"

"I don't know, but it probably happened on the helicarrier too."

There was silence, only the beeping of the monitor beside me. "You have to tell him."

I whipped my head towards the doctor. "Are you insane? He'll kill himself!"

"I don't think I'll kill myself."

I turned and saw Clint leaning against the door. From his face, I could tell he had heard every word I had said. "Clint," I said. "It wasn't your fault."

He turned and punched the wall, probably hurting him. "It was. I hurt you."

I got off of the single bed. "Clint, this was Loki."

"I should have resisted."

I almost ran over to him, ignoring the pain in my leg. "You couldn't have." I rested a hand on his shoulder. "This wasn't your fault."

He turned towards me, anger in his eyes. "It was! Yes it-"

I cut him off by pressing my lips to his.

He pulled away after a little. "I thought you said love is for children."

I smiled. "Then I'm a child."


	3. Beautiful

Clint busted out laughing as Tony stared at his cards. "But . . . but . . ."

The archer only laughed harder. "I told you we shouldn't play Uno! Tasha and I have been playing since we met; I've won every single time."

Tony scowled and slapped $200 dollars on the table. "You win, you win." Then his eyes drifted over Clint's head. "Whoa," he almost whispered.

Clint let out a laugh as he turned around. "What's got you speechle- whoa."

The pretty red haired girl let out a laugh as she stared at her teammate's open mouths. "Close them," she teased. "Flies might get in."

Clint gulped. Hard. He tried to say something, but his mouth couldn't form words.

Natasha was dressed in a floor length, stormy blue dress that someone matched her hair. It was strapless with the swirl of an armband running down her arm to her wrist. A diamond necklace sparkled around her neck as her hair swished around her shoulders, reddish brown curls falling perfectly.

Clint pinched himself. "I'm dreaming," he muttered.

Tony only whistled, making the assassin send a glare at him. It didn't work, considering she was drop dead gorgeous still. "Watch it Stark, you have a girlfriend."

Just then Pepper walked into the room with Captain America. They were chatting pleasantly at something, but Steve stopped when he saw Natasha. Pepper only smiled. "You look great," she said.

Natasha smiled. "Thanks, Pepper." Grabbing her purse off the counter, she looked at the men, who were still staring. She sighed. "Guys, stop."

Tony and Steve looked away, blushing, but Clint didn't. He couldn't keep his eyes off her. She was beautiful. He gulped again, trying to control himself.

Natasha let out a musical laugh and walked out the door, leaving Pepper with three stunned Avengers. The CEO laughed. "Tony, I'd kick your butt right now for looking at another girl, but I'm enjoying your faces. JARVIS, take a few pictures."

"Right away, Ms. Potts."

Steve shook his head. "She looked great."

"Amazing," Tony said.

"Beautiful," Clint breathed.

They are stared at the marksman, who was blushing when he realized what he had said. Pepper raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Tony wasn't so polite. "So, the hawk has fallen for the spider. What's next, aliens falling out of the sky?"

Steve frowned a little. "That already happened."

Tony stopped. "Oh."

Clint shook himself out of his gaze, suddenly realizing something. "Where's she going?"

Steve and Tony just shook their heads. He looked at Pepper, and she just took a sip of her drink. He frowned. "Pepper, where's Nat going?"

A small smile appeared on her face. "I'm under strict orders not to tell you."

"Whose orders?"

She didn't answer. Clint stood up, advancing towards her. "Where is she?" he growled.

Pepper looked at him almost lazily. "Can't tell you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend to." She left the room, leaving a very angry assassin behind.

He trained his gaze to Tony, who yelped and hid behind Steve. "Track her," Clint said.

"No!" Tony yelped behind the super soldier.

Clint took a step towards him, leading Steve to exit the room, leaving a vulnerable Tony behind. "You're on your own."

Tony looked around quickly, but not before Clint grabbed him by the collar. "Tony," he growled. "I said, track her."

"Pepper would kill me!"

"Who are you more scared of? The deadly archer who could kill you without breaking a sweat, or your girlfriend?"

Tony managed to break from Clint's grip, running from the room. "Pepper," he called. "I'm more afraid of Pepper!"

Clint groaned, then looked at the ceiling. "JARVIS?"

"I'm sorry sir, I have been told by Miss Romanoff not to tell you where she was going, not matter how much you threatened to break my motherboard."

Clint groaned, then remembered something. "Did she tell you not to have you replay messages on her cell phone?"

There was a moment of silence. "No," The AI said, almost hesitantly. "But I do not recommend it."

Clint waved a hand. "Replay the messages from today."

"Accepting. Replaying only message from earlier today."

There was a slight pause, then an unfamiliar man's voice came on. "Hey Tash, how are you doing? I was wondering if you would like to go out for dinner later tonight. Anyway, call me back. До свидания, красивые." There was a small click.

Clint stood there in shock. "Sir? Are you okay?" the AI asked.

"I'm fine," he said shortly. "Who was that man?"

"Voice recognition states that that was Blake Portman. Anything else?"

"Tell me everything about him."

"He is twenty four years old, lives at 2078 North Harland in California, but often travels to New York for business. He is the owner of Portman Industries, a company that specializes in computers."

"What else?"

"I'm sorry sir, that is all I can find. There seems to be a very secured file on him, but I cannot get into it."

This piece of information caught his attention. "Why is there a secured file?"

"I'm not sure."

Clint frowned and ran to his room. He threw on his uniform and grabbed his bow from the closet. "JARVIS, activate the tracking device I placed on her."

"You had a tracking device placed on your girlfriend?"

Clint looked up, saw Tony, and continued grabbing his weapons from the closet. "She's not my girlfriend. And yes, I did."

Tony let out a laugh. "Why?"

Clint loaded his pack with arrows and looked at the billionaire. "I don't know. Why do you have a tracking device on Pepper?"

Tony turned red. "How did you . . . I mean . . . seriously, how did you-"

Clint walked past him and onto the balcony. "JARVIS, where is Natasha now?"

"She is currently at Masa."

Clint let out a long whistle. "He's taking her there? That place is expensive."

"It is. Now, may I ask- Sir? Did you just jump off the building?"

There was no answer. Clint was gone.

He leapt to another roof top, then another, and another. He soon reached the small restaurant and spotted Natasha through the glass roof. He perched himself on the roof across the street, watching. She laughed at something the man in a suit said, smiling. Her diamonds sparkled and Blake Portman smiled, watching the beautiful red head in awe.

Clint grumbled as he pulled his arrows out. "Tony," he called. "Are you there?"

There was some rustling in his ear. "Clint? Where are you? I just saw you jump off the building! You may be a hawk, but you can't fly!"

Clint would have laughed at the joke if he hadn't been watching Natasha moved closer to the man, their faces inches apart. "What would the repercussion be if I shot Blake Portman?"

"The millionaire? SHIELD would probably kill you. Why?"

"He's on a date with Natasha."

There was a slight pause. "The hawk has a crush! The hawk has a- Pepper! Give me the com!"

Another voice came on. "Clint? Is that you?"

"Guilty."

Pepper sighed. "Clint, Natasha is a grown woman. She can handle herself."

"I know, but-"

"No buts. She can date whoever she wants, whenever she wants."

"She can't! She's mine!"

Pepper let out a soft laugh. "Then tell her." The line went dead, leaving Clint alone.

He sat there for a while, thinking about the CEO's words. Suddenly, something caught his eye. Natasha was looking for a waiter, while Black held a tiny bottle in his hand. He slipped a drop into her drink and pulled the bottle out of sight.

In a flash Clint was up and off the roof. He landed in the restaurant entrance, startling the people who worked there. He ignored their protests as he stormed to Natasha's table and grabbed the cup just as she was about to drink it.

She whirled around in her seat. "Clint," she said, disbelieving. "What are you doing here?"

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Blake try and slip by. He grabbed the man's arm and forced him to sit down. "This man was trying to poison you."

Blake's eyes widened. "Я бы никогда!" he said quickly.

Natasha glared at Clint. "Why are you ruining my date?"

"Because of this." He held her cup out to Blake. "My kind man, would you please taste this?"

The millionaire swallowed. "Please," he said in a heavily accented voice. "This is the lady's drink. Why are you harassing us?"

Natasha glared at her partner. "Leave us alone!"

Clint ignored her and forced the man to drink the drink. After a few seconds, nothing happened. Then the man crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Natasha's eyes widened. "Blake," she said softly.

Clint held out a hand. "Let's go home."

She complied, and they walked out the door, hearing police sirens a few miles off.

* * *

When they walked into the Avenger's living room, it was quiet. Clint let Natasha to her room and sat on her bed, while she grabbed her clothes from her closet, then went into her bathroom to change.

When she came out, she was wearing a black tank top and black sweatpants. She sat on her bed stiffly. "Clint. I'm so-"

"Don't. This wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known that the man would poison you."

Natasha smiled a little. "Thank you for saving me," she said quietly.

Those words brought a smile to Clint's face. "Anytime."

She turned towards him. Their faces were inches apart. "Thank you," she said once again.

Clint's heart beat faster as he closed the gap between their lips.

**Just in case any of you were curious, here's what was said in Russian:**

_-"Anyway, call me back. До свидания, красивые." (Goodbye, Beautiful)_

_-Blake's eyes widened. "Я бы никогда!" (I would never!) _


	4. A Choice

**Hi To those of you who may be confused, this was posted origionally as its own story. Then I decided to make it a one shot, and transfered it here. Enjoy! **

"You've got to be kidding me!"

The person on the other line sighed. "Agent Barton, do your job!"

Agent Clint Barton, also known as Hawkeye, was high up in the rafters of a ballroom. He had spotted his target a few minutes ago, and was officially freaking out. "No! Nope! Nada!"

"Barton! Just-"

"I am not killing a child!"

"She's seventeen."

"Whatever! She's still a child."

I groaned the groan coming out of the other line. "The Widow is only three years younger than you."

"I didn't know SHIELD killed children now!"

"Agent Barton, that girl is no child, and most certainly not an innocent."

Clint looked down at his target. She looked harmless enough, dressed in a strapless, floor length, pearl dress. Her curly, vibrant red hair was let down to the middle of her back. A smile was on her face, and she looked relaxed. "She looks harmless."

"You read the files. She's-"

"Yeah, yeah. She's killed hundreds of people. But she looks-"

"Sweet? Innocent? Carefree? That's what the last six agents we've sent on this mission said right before they died."

Chills ran down his spine. "She killed them?"

"Every single one."

There was a pause. The only thing the famed archer could hear was strains of music from below. He took a deep breath. "You're sure she's dangerous."

"As a cobra."

"I have to kill her?"

"You've killed people before. Why are you hesitating now?"

"It's just . . ." He paused and stared at the girl, who had approached her target, Jacques Kelof. According to SHIELD's files, the billionaire had been dealing with weapons for over a decade. Recent Intel showed that the Black Widow had been sent to kill him for double crossing her boss. "She approached Jacques."

"Make your move!"

Hesitantly, I drew the arrow. I fitted it into my bow, and aimed it at the girl. "Culson, I don't like this."

"Don't make Fury prove that I made a mistake assigning you to this mission."

Hawkeye smirked. He was about to release the bow, when he saw the girl stiffen. She whirled around and her green eyes met his. Clint's eyes widened. Not a moment later, something whistled millimeters away from his left ear.

The ballroom stood still. Everyone was staring at the red haired girl with the gun.

A few moments later, it was chaos. All the guests burst out, and Clint was silently cursing himself. He aimed the arrow, but the girl was nowhere in sight.

Frantically, he looked around, trying to locate his target. A few seconds later however, he saw her. She was sneaking out the back doors, into the garden.

Not wasting any time, Clint shot a zip line arrow over to the other side of the room, and was there in a few seconds. He burst out the door, and found the girl standing on the other side of the clearing, holding a gun to his face.

Without hesitation, Clint drew his bow.

It was a silent stare down, before the girl broke it. "Why were you trying to kill me?"

Blue-gray eyes met green, and Clint responded. "Why were you trying to kill that man?"

She stiffened, only slightly, but it was enough for the archer to notice. "What good is that weapon going to do? It's medieval."

Clint chuckled. "You'd be surprised how many have fallen to this bow."

Widow's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

"I think you would know who I am if you were trying to kill me."

"You got that right, Widow."

At the same time, both assassins released their weapons. The bullet grazed Clint on the shoulder. Black Widow was not so lucky.

Clint's arrow was true to its aim, and it punctured her leg. She fell to the ground in pain, but didn't make a noise.

She pulled the arrow out of her leg and threw it at him. He dodged it by inches. The girl glared at him. "I thought you were going to kill me."

Something flickered in her eyes, and Clint realized something. "You're afraid."

She drew back slightly. "I'm not."

"You're afraid of dying."

She snorted, but he could detect a hint of fear in her voice. "Please. I risk my life every day. It's no different."

Clint ran a hand threw his hair. "I can help you."

She let out a small laugh. "You. An American assassin, wanting to help me."

"How did you know I was American?"

Widow smirked. "Have you looked at your shirt?"

He glanced down. There was a SHIELD logo on it. Hawkeye felt stupid. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh." He looked at her, and there was a hint of a smile on her lips. "I thought SHIELD agents were supposed to be smart."

Hawkeye frowned. "I am!"

She raised an eyebrow, unbelieving. "Back to your previous question, why would you want to help me?"

"I was like you."

"Excuse me?"

"I was like you. I was trained to kill. I killed innocent people. When I joined SHIELD, I wiped it out."

Her green eyes darkened a shade. She tried to stand up, but fell. He ran over and grabbed her upper arm. She tried to yank it off, but Hawkeye was strong. She settled with glaring. "Let go of me!"

"Or what?"

Without responding, she drew a knife from her pocket. Aiming it at him, he jumped away. She fell to the ground again, scraping her knee.

Pushing a button on his com, he spoke. "Culson, I'm going to need an extraction team."

"You got the assignment done." It was a statement, not a question. From his tone, Clint could tell his handler wasn't too happy.

"I shot Widow-"

"Good!"

"-in leg."

Culson cursed. "Just kill her!"

The archer ducked out of the way as Widow threw yet another knife at him. "Where do you get all these knifes?" he shouted to her.

Drawing another one from her boot, she responded. "A good assassin always has a few backups."

Clint darted out of the way just in time. Widow tried to stand up again, this time succeeding. Their eyes met, and the archer noticed a shadow behind her. Without thinking, he ran towards her and pushed her out of the way. "Watch out!"

The next thing he knew was the sharp prick of something entering his neck, and everything turned black.

* * *

Clint was waking up very slowly, which was unusual for him. The first thing he noticed was that he had a killer headache. Then he felt someone wiping his face with a warm cloth.

He started to fall back asleep. Then the situation hit him.

His eyes flew open and he grabbed the wrist of the person wiping his forehead.

His jaw dropped.

The Black Widow, killer of hundreds, cold hearted assassin, was leaning over him, wiping his face with a cloth.

Her eyebrows went up. "Are you gonna let me finish? You're kinda flushed."

Clint didn't release her. "Where am I, and why have you brought me here?"

She simply rolled her eyes and broke out of his grip, walking towards a kitchen. Clint took this chance to look around.

He was in a small cottage. His ears picked up the ocean nearby, which worried him, because his mission was in the middle of Europe. Not near water.

There were three doors in the room. One was made of glass, which he assumed was the front door, and the other two were wood. One was open, revealing a bedroom with a blue, quilted comforter.

He groaned and tried to sit up. Immediately he heard footsteps. A hand was placed gently on his chest, pushing him down. "You really shouldn't get up. You'll hurt yourself."

Clint just stared at the pretty girl before him. "Why are you helping me?"

She pressed the cloth to his forehead, not responding. After a few seconds, Clint reached out and gently grabbed her wrist. "Widow," he said quietly.

She threw her hands up in the air. "Dang it, why are you being so nice?"

A puzzled expression crossed his face. "Do you not want me too?"

Her green eyes were filled with fury. "Answer the question! Why did you save my life?" Her voice was loud, angry.

"You wanted to be dead?"

"Yes! No . . . why do you care?"

Clint glared at her. "Why do I care? I should be asking why I'm not dead yet!"

Widow stood up and started pacing, hands behind her back. "I'm going soft. I should have killed you the moment you got shot," she muttered.

Clint sat up again, flinching slightly at the pain in his shoulder and neck. "Did anyone ever told you you're extremely volatile?"

The red haired assassin glared at him. "You really want to make the person who can kill you without a second thought, mad?"

He frowned. "So now you're going to kill me?"

Without her noticing, he had slowly started to stand up. Before she could react, he leapt forward, pinning her to the ground. She resisted, but within seconds she was beneath him, hands over her head.

She glared at him. "I save your life, and you repay me by pinning me to the ground? SHIELD agents are so nice," she said, sarcasm dripping out of her tone.

Ignoring her, Clint put his hand to his ear. "Agent Barton here, do you copy?"

There was a little static, but his handler came on the line. "Clint! We thought you were dead!"

"Why would you think that?"

"Uh, you've been missing for three days?"

"THREE DAYS!"

Hawkeye looked at the girl in front of him, but she only smiled and shrugged. "I guess I forgot to mention that. So sorry."

"Hawkeye? Are you still there?"

"Here. I need an extraction team," he said, still glaring at Widow.

"We're locating your signal now."

"Ok, how long-"

He was interrupted. Without him noticing, Widow had pulled a knife from underneath the table and jabbed it at him. He nimbly jumped out of the way, giving her time to land on her feet.

Clint looked at her with respect. "Not many people can get away from me when I've got them."

She flashed a smile. "I'm not your average person, in case you noticed."

"Believe me. I did."

"Clint, what's going on?" Culson's voice cut into his ear just as Widow threw one of her many knifes at him. He dodged it.

An idea came to mind. It was his only chance of survival, considering this girl was as deadly as himself. "How far away are you?"

"Five at the most."

"Did you pack any sedatives?" he asked, as Widow flew at him, fists flying.

"There's one in your bag. Why?"

He looked around. Spotting his bag, he pushed her away from him and dived for it. Seconds later, he found what he needed.

Turning, he saw Widow coming towards him. He raised the gun and shot.

A dart sprouted from her lower arm. She froze, and a murderous look came on her face. "Barton, I'm gonna-" She dropped on the floor, unconscious.

Clint sat there, breathing heavily.

"-rton, Barton, BARTON!"

"What?"

"We're here."

Not a second later, six SHIELD agents burst through the door, Culson behind him. Hawkeye picked himself off the ground, wincing. He walked over to Culson, who had spotted the Black Widow. "Good job, agent."

Clint ran his hand through his hair. "The thing is . . . she's not actually dead."

In all his years as a SHIELD agent, Clint had never seen the calm mannered, peaceful, gentle agent, so mad.


	5. Reality?

_"Уходи! Я тебя ненавижу!" Natasha screamed at Clint as he slowly approached her, an evil smile on his face. _

_"Oh Nat, you've always shouted Russian when you're scared. Are you scared of me?"_

_She's terrified. Her partner's normally blue gray eyes are electric blue and his expression is terrifying. "Get out! Loki, get out!"_

_Clint only smiled even wider. "I'm not Loki. I'm Clint."_

_She gulped. "Clint wouldn't do this! Get out of his head!" Desperately she swung at him, but he caught her wrist. _

_He moved closer to her, his face inches from hers. "Tasha," he muttered. "Oh, Tasha. Your ledger is dripping, gushing. You can't save yourself. You can't even save me."_

_She was paralyzed; he took this as a chance to capture her lips in his. _

_Some part of her mind knew it was Loki, but the other part didn't care._

* * *

Her eyes flew open and she screamed, causing a loud thump to sound. The lights flickered on, revealing Clint rubbing his head. "Geez Tasha, give me a warning next time."

Relief washed over her as their eyes met. She could see they were blue gray. Natasha quickly got out of bed and ran over to Clint. "What are you doing in my room?"

He rubbed the back of his head; from the fall or embarrassment, she couldn't tell. "I heard you screaming."

She swallowed. _If he knew what the nightmares were about . . ._ "I'm fine. Go back to sleep."

He sighed. "What happened? Why won't you trust me anymore?"

Those words made her freeze.

* * *

_"There's not many people that can sneak up on me."_

_"But you figured I'd come," she said quietly._

_"After. After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm. And I would cooperate."_

_"I wanna know what you've done to Agent Barton."_

_"I'd say I've expanded his mind." His smile was pure evil. _

_"And once you're one. Once you're king of the mountain. What happens to his mind?"_

_"Is this love, Agent Romanoff?"_

_She scoffed, but inside she was terrified. "Love is for children. I own him a debt."_

* * *

Clint stood there before her, waiting for an answer. She didn't, only pushing him out of her room, locking the door, and crawling back under the covers, trying to avoid the nightmares.

When she woke sunlight was streaming through the glass panes. Groaning, she sat up. There was little noise and she raised an eyebrow when she realized it was coming from the vents.

As silently as possible she crept next to the vent, knowing when he came out he wouldn't be able to see her. When he did come she tackled him, causing him to pin her against the floor, his grip like iron.

Their eyes met, once again.

* * *

_"I won't barter Barton! Not until I make him kill you. Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear. And then he'll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams I'll split his skull!_

_Natasha turned away from Loki._

_"This is my bargain, you mewling quim!" His voice was joyous, full of delight for knowing he had found her weak spot._

_"You're a monster."_

_"Oh, no. You've brought the monster."_

* * *

Clint pushed himself of his partner. She shook it off, but she could tell he saw her shaking. "Nat, what's wrong?"

She flinched at the name. "Don't call me that."

His eyes filled with hurt. "What did I do to you?" His voice was only a whisper, but it filled the entire room.

* * *

_He laughed as she tried to run, but there was nowhere to go. He darted around the bullets she shot and knocked the gun out of her hand, leaving her, as he knew, defenseless._

_He took another step closer as she looked desperately around. "There's no escape." He kicked her in the stomach, causing her to fall to the ground in pain._

_She looked up at him once more. His blows were hard, but she could tell he was holding back. "Clint, this isn't you! Keep fighting!"_

_Natasha aimed another blow at him with her arm, but he caught it and twisted her hand, making her yelp. "I am Clint."_

_She was on the ground, helpless._

* * *

She only looked away. "Get out," she said.

He complied. Natasha was left alone in her room.

* * *

_Nick Fury's voice filled the com. "It's Barton, he took out our systems. He's head for the detention level. Does anyone copy?"_

_"This is Agent Romanoff. I copy."_

_She slipped down, silently to the level, being as quiet as possible. It didn't work._

_He whirled around and shot an arrow at her. Only years of training kept her alive. She dodged it and ran towards him, trying to figure out a way to get him out of this. _

* * *

She opened the door and peeked out cautiously. No one was there.

As soon as she stepped out of her room, as voice spoke. "How you feeling, Spidey?"

Without turning around, she rolled her eyes. "Go away, Stark."

Stark came into view. He was lounging on the couch, looking at her. "Barton asked me to check on you."

A flicker of fear came through her. "Идиот," she said softly.

Tony tilted his head. "JARVIS, what did she say?"

"She called you an idiot, sir."

Natasha held back a smile as she exited back into her own room.

Turning to her closet, she pulled out faded jeans and a white v-neck. She changed quickly then stepped onto her balcony.

New York was in the process of being rebuilt. There were few construction crews left, despite the damage. Everyone was exhausted.

"I thought you were afraid of heights."

He startled her as he jumped down; she held back a curse as she remembered that his floor was right above hers. "I needed some air."

"You could have walked outside." He took a step closer and Natasha fought the need to flee.

She forced a smile on her face. "This was closer."

He was right beside her now, and she was barely controlling herself. She wanted to flee, go hide. "Nat, what did I do to you?"

She regarded him. "I'm not telling you."

Their eyes met and he leaned closer to her. "Tell me," he whispered.

He placed his lips gently on hers and a spark of fear caused Natasha to jerk back.

The smile was replaced by anger. "Why are you so afraid of me?"

She didn't answer, only walking back into her room. Natasha didn't get too far; Clint grabbed her by the arm. "Tell me," he growled.

She shook him off and faced him. "You kissed me! While you were under Loki's influence, you tortured me, haunted me, and left scars."

Clint froze. "I did that," he whispered. "That's why you won't look at me. That's why you flinch away from me." He sank into her bed, leaving Natasha standing there.

She sat down next to him. "As much as I try and convince myself that it wasn't you, the nightmares always come back."

He swallowed. "I'm giving you nightmares?"

Natasha nodded. "Yes," she whispered.

* * *

_She freed his hands from the restraints. "Tasha, how many agents-"_

_ "Don't. Don't do that to yourself, Clint. This is Loki. This is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for."_

_ "Loki. He got away?"_

_ "Yeah. I don't suppose you know where?"_

_ "I didn't know. I didn't ask."_

_ "We need to stop him."_

_ "Yeah? Who's we?" Clint groaned._

_ "I don't know. Whoever's left."_

_ "If I put an arrow in Loki's eye socket, I'd sleep better I suppose."_

_ She smiled. "Now you sound like you."_

_ He looked at her, moving closer. Their arms were barely touching, but it was enough. "But you don't. What did Loki do to you?"_

* * *

He wanted to punch himself, and she knew that. "I don't blame you, Clint."

He slammed his hand against the nightstand, causing her to flinch. "Before you wouldn't have flinched. Why didn't I fight it? Why didn't I-"

She crashed her lips to his, and both their fears melted away.

She was safe with him. She always was. And he knew it.


	6. Arina

She smiled down at the little girl in her arms. "She's beautiful," the red head muttered.

The nurse nodded. "Looks like you. Except for the gray-blue eyes."

Natasha Romanoff looked closer at her daughter. The nurse was right; she had her father's eyes. Suddenly the door open, causing her to hold her daughter closer.

A man and a woman walked in, the man carrying a brief case. "Готовы ли вы?" he asked in Russian.

The assassin felt a pain in her heart, but she pushed it away. She couldn't afford a child, nor would her lifestyle permit it. "Да," she replied softly. "Позаботься о моей дочери."

The woman nodded and motioned for the child. Natasha gently gave her to the other woman, who cradled her in her arms. "Мы будем."

The woman walked out the door with the man close behind her. Natasha fought the urge to rip the child from the lady's arms. She told herself it was for the best. The child would be raised right.

Her daughter would be raised right.

-14 Years Later-

Natasha ducked as a Chitauri shot a bolt of light at her. It passed harmlessly over her head as she shot a bullet into its head. It fell to the ground with a shriek, leaving the assassin to deal with a swarm of angry ones.

Suddenly an arrow sprouted from the head of one. "Thanks," she called into her com.

"Thanks? What did I do?" Her partner sounded confused.

Natasha shot another bullet. "For shooting that arrow."

"I didn't shoot any arrow."

Natasha ignored her partner, telling herself that he was being funny. "Never mind."

Suddenly every alien fell to the ground, lifeless. A loud crash was heard when one of the larger ones fell into a glass building.

Steve's voice came through the link. "I closed the portal, but someone better catch Tony."

Natasha looked up, only to see a falling iron man. Then the Hulk leapt up and caught him, falling to the ground, out of sight.

A groan was heard. Natasha looked around, the realized it was coming from her com. "Clint," she said worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Another groan was heard. "I'm okay, but-" Suddenly the com went dead.

A loud shriek sounded and the assassin ran towards the sound. It was Clint's scream. It worried her. He never screams.

Suddenly she saw his body lying on the ground, surrounded by glass. Her heart pounded as she ran towards her fallen partner. But someone had beat her too it.

A young girl was leaning over Clint, pouring something in his mouth. Natasha's eyes widened as she pushed the girl away from her partner.

The girl fell to the ground and glared at Natasha. "Hey! I was helping him!"

Natasha ignored her and knelt next to Clint. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. Putting a hand to her com, she spoke. "Barton is down. I repeat, Barton is down."

There was slight static before the familiar voice of Fury came on the line. "Copy that. We're two minutes away from your location, tops.

"Hurry. He's losing a lot of blood."

Natasha looked back at her partner, then at the girl. She had stood up by now, brushing the dirt off her jeans.

The girl had long, curly, red hair that reached a little past her shoulders. She looked to be about fourteen and was dressed in faded black jeans and a black spaghetti strap tank top. On her back she had a pouch that held arrows.

Natasha frowned. "What did you do to him?"

The girl glared back. "I didn't do anything! I saved his life!"

Natasha let out a hallow laugh. "Yeah, right. With what, a toy gun?"

"With my bow." The girl held up a bow similar to Clint's, only a little smaller.

Natasha shook her head. "That's impossible. What did you do to him?"

The girl raised an eyebrow. "Really? Impossible?" She raised her bow and drew an arrow faster than Natasha could blink, and shot a dead alien. It went straight through the head.

A bad feeling was filling Natasha. "What's your name?"

Sadness flashed through her eyes. "Which one? I have a lot.

"Just one is fine."

She pressed a button on the bow and it shrunk into the size of a clip, which the girl put in her hair. "My parents always told me my name was Arina." It was then Natasha noticed the girl had a slight accent. A Russian accent.

Before she could say anything, a team of SHEILD members ran into the building. Four of them crowded around Clint, pushing Natasha away, and the other two came up to me. "Are you alright Widow?"

She waved a hand. "Where's Fury?"

"Right here."

Natasha turned around and spotted Fury walking towards her. "Who's your friend?"

Arina frowned. "Why do you have one eye?"

Natasha held back laughter. "This is Arina. She saved Clint's life."

Fury held out a hand. "Nice to meet you. What is a young girl like you doing in the middle of an alien invasion?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I can fight. I took a chance."

Fury scanned her. "You should get checked out by the medical team."

"I'm fine. It's the man who shoots arrows I'm worried about. An alien got him in the leg before I shot it."

"Shot it?"

She pulled her paper clip out of her hair and it grew into a bow. "I'm an archer."

Natasha stepped forward. "I'll take her to Stark Tower. I know the rest of the Avengers will be there."

Fury started to protest, but something in his best assassin's eye made him stop. "Fine. Just make sure she gets medical attention, then send her home."

Natasha motioned for the girl to follow her. "Come on. There's some people I'd like you to meet."

* * *

The pair walked into the living room, only to be met with a sight. Tony was playing on some sort of tablet, Bruce was lying on the carpet, Thor was looking mystified with the T.V, and Steve was just sitting on a chair in the kitchen.

Tony looked up. "Hey Spidey! Who's your friend?"

I laughed. "This is Arina. Bruce, can you give her a med check?"

The doctor started to get up, but Arina protested. "I'm fine."

Natasha sighed. _She's just like Clint._ "Fine. Are you hungry?"

The girl crossed her arms. "Why are you helping me?"

Natasha shrugged as she opened the fridge. "You probably saved my partner's life. I owe you."

Arina sat down on the couch next to Tony. "Do you have Kielbasa?"

"Sure. Tony always has some, it's my favorite dish." Natasha pulled some out of the fridge and divided it onto two plates, one for the girl and one for herself.

The assassin walked over and handed the plate to Arina, then sat on the floor, facing the girl. In between bites, she decided to ask questions. "So, you know Russian dishes. Are you Russian?"

Arian stiffened. "I don't exactly know. I was born in Russia, raised in Russia, but my adoptive parents died when I was young, due to some freak accident. I've been on my own ever since."

Natasha felt a pain. Her life had been like that too. "How did you end up here?"

"I snuck aboard some private plane. I've been here for a few days."

Tony looked up from whatever he was doing. "I have a question."

Arina raised an eyebrow. "Say anything offensive, and I'll shoot you."

The billionaire laughed. "Shoot me? With do you even know how to use a gun?"

The girl laughed. "No, but I'm pretty good with a bow."

Tony looked at Natasha, but she waved her hand. "I'll tell you later."

"Anyway, why do you look so much like our Spidey?"

Arina shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe we're long lost sisters."

Natasha shook her head. "Impossible. My parents were killed when I was a baby. And I'm what, twenty years older than you?"

"I turn fourteen in October."

The elevator pinged, and a very tired looking Clint walked in. "Hey guys, I'm going crash on one of the guest rooms, and- why are there two of you, Nat?"

Natasha laughed. "There's not."

Clint pointed to Arina. "That one looks a lot younger, though."

Natasha looked at Arina. She had the same hair color and similar facial features, but she had gray-blue eyes, not green. _Gray-blue eyes._

Natasha gulped. Hard. "Arina, when was your exact birthday?"

"October 17. Why?"

The whole world spinning. "What were the names of your parents?"

"My adoptive parent's names were Mr. and Mrs. Reginald."

Everything went black.

* * *

"Why did she faint?"

"I don't know. What do you think, Arina?"

"Exhaustion, maybe. I'm no doctor though."

Natasha cracked open her eyes. Clint was sitting on her bed, while Arina lingered in the corner. Fear ran through her. "No," she cried. "No!"

Clint wrapped her in his arms. "What happened? Why did you faint?"

Natasha was on the verge of crying. "Get out!" she screamed. "Arina, get out!"

Hurt flashed across the girl's face. "What?"

"I said, get out!"

The door slammed, leaving her alone with Clint. His face read confusion. "Why did you tell her to get out?"

Natasha ignored him and brought her knees up to her chest. She hadn't felt this much fear in fifteen years. When she found out she was pregnant.

_Clint. No, no. _She brought her eyes to Clint's. His blue-gray ones were staring back at her. _The same color as Arina's. _

Clint tried to reach for her again but she resisted. "Clint, leave me alone. Please."

"Nat, I'm not leaving-"

"Go!"

He shook his head. "Tell me what's wrong!"

"I can't." Her voice had lowered to a whisper. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Just leave."

He nodded sadly and left her.

Sighing, she looked at the ceiling. "JARVIS?"

"Yes, Agent Romanoff?"

"I need a favor. But no matter how much Stark asks you, you can't tell anyone."

"Understood. What do you need?"

"Can you scan Arina, the girl in the hall."

"Complying." After a few seconds, a beep sounded. "What do you want to know?"

"Her DNA matching with mine."

"It is 76% matching to yours, along with 24% matching with Agent Barton's."

She took a shuddering breath. "Thank you."

"Anytime."

Natasha stepped out of her bed and carefully entered the living room. Everyone was gone, except for Arina and Clint. She was sitting on the couch, looking angry. Clint was pacing.

When she walked in, both of them looked up, the same expression on their face. "Are you going to yell at me?"

She sighed. "Clint, sit down. I need to tell you both something."

He didn't move. "Anything you can tell me can be said right here."

"We have a daughter," she said in a whisper.

"Excuse me?"

"We have a daughter."

Arina raised an eyebrow. "Congratulations. Can I leave now?"

"You're our daughter."

Shock flittered across both of their faces. "Excuse me?" they both said at the same time.

Clint ran a hand through his hair. "We have a daughter. She's our daughter."

"Yeah."

Arina stood up. "You're my mother. That's . . . impossible."

Natasha shook her head. "Fifteen years ago I found out I was pregnant. I went off the grid for a year to have you, then gave you up for adoption."

"We have a daughter."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "I just said that. Is that all you're going to say?"

He glared at her, his gaze angry. "Why didn't you tell me? We could have raised her together!"

"It was the beginning of my time at SHIELD! If I had given birth to a baby, they would have kicked me off the helicarrier faster than you could blink."

"I would have quit with you, and we could have raised her!"

Arina stepped forward. "I'm right here. I'm glad I finally found my birth parents, but I didn't think they'd be master assassins!"

Clint stormed out of the room and left me behind with Arina. Our eyes met. "I'm sorry," I muttered. "I didn't think he'd react that way."

"I'd be reacting the same way if I were in his place. But I'm happy I met my mother."

Natasha sighed. "I'm going to go after him. You . . . can watch T.V." She exited the room.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice was low, angry. "Why didn't you?"

Natasha sighed as she walked onto the roof. "I'm sorry. I was afraid that you would-"

He spun around. Anger flashed in his eyes. "Afraid that I would what? Reject you? I could have helped you. We could have quit and raised her together. Arina. She looks so much like you."

Natasha stepped beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know you're mad, but I'm sorry. I thought I would never see her again."

"And I would have never met her. Damn it, why didn't you tell me?"

Natasha coiled back. "I didn't think you'd be mad!"

He sighed. "I'm not mad, I'm just upset."

Natasha let out a small smile. "Let's go meet our daughter."

They walked towards the elevator. When they reached the living room, Arina was playing on Tony's tablet. She looked up. "Hey, Natasha, Clint."

Clint stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. She immediately responded.

Natasha watched them. "I'm sorry, you guys."

Clint held out a hand. "Get in here."

She walked hesitantly to the group and they enveloped her in a hug. She smiled. "Again, I'm so-"

Arina snorted. "If you say I'm sorry one more time, I'm going to shoot you."

Clint laughed. "You can shoot a gun?"

"An arrow."

I didn't think his smile could get wider, but it did. "You inherited my talents and Natasha's looks. You're perfect."

Natasha smiled. "She has your eyes."

They stood there for a while, smiling like crazy. A thought popped into Natasha's head.

"What are we going to tell everyone?"

**Hope you liked it. This popped into my head in the middle of science class, and it's been driving me insane all day. The first thing I did when I got home was sit down and write this. I haven't left my seat since. In case any of you were wondering, this is a one-shot. No more stories about Arina and her parents. Review! **


	7. Medicine

**Orginally a story, turned into a one-shot. **

She paces throughout her floor in Stark's tower, waiting. She's been waiting for the past two hours, never stopping, always worried. Two hours ago her partner had radioed for help. Not twenty seconds later, his com had gone off the grid.

Fury had called. She had answered, not sure if he needed another mission or just some small talk. She should have known it was the dangerous, deadly third option.

She had started to suit up and ready to go after him, but Fury and the other Avengers had stopped her. They had tried to reassure her that he was fine, that he would come home. When she searched their eyes, she found lies. They weren't sure.

The assassin was jolted out of her thoughts but the ding of the elevator opening. Her head shot to the elevator as the welcoming sight of her partner, who looked tired and hurt.

She hurled herself towards him and he greeted her with open arms. She buries herself into his chest as he strokes her hair. "I'm here, Tasha," he said quietly.

Natasha put her head up as she looked at him. She was a good four inches shorter than him, making so he had to look down. "They told me . . . they told me you were coming home. But I could tell they were lying."

His only response was to hold her tighter. "I'll always come home," he vowed. "I'll always come back to you."

She was surprised at the emotion in his voice. "That doesn't help the worry."

He gently pulled away from her. "I just wanted to see you before I went to my floor."

Natasha stood there. "Let me fix your wounds. You look pretty hurt."

And he did. His cheek had a gash on it, and judging from redness of it, it wasn't old. She noticed he was limping slightly, and although he didn't think she had, she noticed how he flinched slightly when she squeezed. She knew there were more, always more. He would never tell.

He turned to walk into the elevator, but she grabbed his wrist and gently pulled him back into her floor. He knew it was useless to resist as she forced him onto the couch. She left for a second to grab the first aid kit he knew she kept underneath her bed.

He took this chance to lift up his shirt, revealing a bad gash on his stomach and bruising around his ribs. A few seconds later he failed to notice his partner re-enter the room.

She leaned against the doorway, holding a small, gray box. "Clint," she says quietly.

He jerked and let his shirt go, but the damage was already done. Within a few steps she had crossed the room and was next to him. "Shirt off."

He raised an eyebrow at her and she blushed lightly. "Shirt off, Barton, I need to check your wounds."

He complied and pulled the shirt over his head. She flickered her eyes over his muscles, but looked away when he caught her staring.

Setting the case on the coffee table, she opened it, pulling out a few bandages, needle and thread. He winced at the sight of the needle. "You really have to stitch me up?"

She let out a small laugh. "You've stitched me up before."

"Yeah, but I can actually sew!"

A frown on her lips caused a smile to appear on his. "I can wait till the morning. Then I'll go to the helicarrier."

She shook her head. "Nope. I'm not letting you off the hook that easily."

He let out a dramatic sigh and she sat in front of him on the coffee table. Natasha proceeded to stitch the gash up on his stomach, then his cheek, and finishes in a few minutes. She finishes with the bandages, wrapping them gently around his stomach. He slips on his shirt as a silent thank you.

He doesn't think she notices when he filches as she's finishing. She's worried. Something went wrong on the mission, something terrifying. She sees the scars in his eyes and on his injuries.

He lets out a sigh of relief as she packs the kit away. Clint leans back on the couch, relaxing as she leaves for a split second. When she comes back she leans against the doorway, staring at him.

Natasha sighs quietly. "What happened?"

He tenses up. "It went wrong. What more is there?"

She slides over to him and sits on the couch next to him. Not touching, but close enough. "I went in, I was fine. They had been lying in wait for me. The moment I walked in, I was as good as dead."

It was enough for her; she leaned in towards him, his strong arms wrapping around her petite body, his body warm against hers. He continued. "They shot me and I fled, bleeding like hell. I thought I was going to die."

She looked up at him, her green eyes questioning. "What happened?"

"I found my way to a private plane after resting for a bit and paid the pilot a small fortune to fly me here."

"I would punch you right now for being so stupid, but you've had enough for one day."

He held her tighter. "I only had to get home to you, to tell you I was alright."

She bit her lip. "You should have rested more, healed more."

"You would have tortured yourself."

Natasha was silent, only because she knew he was right. She leaned her head against his shoulder, her breathing becoming deeper.

He watched her as she fell asleep, her red curls spread on his shoulder. He contemplated moving her to bed, but decided not to. He soon fell asleep, though not as easy as her.

* * *

Pepper entered Natasha's floor, preparing to tell her the Clint was still missing, only to find he was sleeping right there beside her. They had lain sideways on the couch, her back to him, his arm clenched around her stomach and their hands woven together.

Pepper only backed slowly out of the apartment, grateful it was she that had found them. If it had been Steve, he would have blushed and made a mad dash out of the floor. If it had been Bruce, he would have raised an eyebrow and continued on, making a mental note to mention it to the pair later. If it had been Tony . . . well, he would have taken endless pictures as blackmail, and Pepper would dearly like her boyfriend to not get killed by an angry Russian assassin who hasn't had her coffee yet.

As she rode up the elevator, a small smile appeared on her lips. They were so perfect together, even if they didn't know it yet. It had been like that when she found Tony. Look where they were now.

Natasha had worn herself when Clint had gone missing, to the point that Tony had made JARVIS alert him if she left her room. She cared desperately for the archer, as much as she denied it.

Pepper chuckled lightly as the elevator glided to a halt.

They were in love, even if they didn't know it.


	8. Recruits

Natasha groans as she walks out of Fury's office, walking as fast as she can. Not a second later her partner slid beside her. "That bad?" he asked sympathetically.

"Fury's making me evaluate the new recruits."

Her partner froze. "Come again?"

She sighed and faced him. "He's making me-"

"I heard you. I just can't believe it." A worried expression came across his face. "Weren't you banned from doing that since you nearly killed one of them when they hit on you?"

She snorted. "And you 'accidently' made sure that he couldn't walk for a month?"

There was a moment of silence, then the two partners burst out laughing.

_Natasha walked into the training room, all eyes on her. "Hi, I will be evaluating you today. Any questions?"_

_ One of them smirked at her. "Hey, want to do on a date tonight?"_

_ She rolled her eyes. "Any other questions?"_

_ "Are you even qualified to evaluate us?"_

_ Agent Hill looked over at the recruit, worried. Last time someone had said that, they mysteriously ended up in the hospital for a year. Natasha denied it, saying he was careless enough to jump out of a plane without a parachute. _

_ A smile lit on the ex-Russian's face. Agent Hill immediately walked out of the room, not wanting to be held responsible for what was about to happen. As she left the room, she heard a few gun shots and the screams. _

_ Agent Barton passed her in the hallway. "What's going on?" he asked curiously. _

_ Agent Hill pointed to the training room. "A recruit tried to hit on Agent Romanoff."_

_ His jaw set as he walked angrily towards the training room. _

Natasha bit her lip, trying to stop laughing. "Anyway, I better go."

Clint leaned up against the wall. "Can I come with you?"

She shook her head, almost sadly. "Fury said under no circumstances are you and me to be in the same room during the training." Then a smile crossed her face. "But he never said you couldn't sit in the air ducts above the room."

Clint winked at her, then was gone.

Natasha rolled her eyes and proceeded down the hallway. When she reached the room, the men's eyes flickered to her. She held back her laughter when they straightened up, trying to look cool. She stopped in front of them. "I will be evaluating you today. You will be tested to the best of my ability, which, I assure you, will be very hard. Questions?"

One of the men stepped forward and winked at her. She inwardly groaned. "You. Me. Dinner tonight?" he asked.

Suddenly a short arrow sprouted from his neck and he fell to the ground, unconscious. She tried to look innocent as she glanced up at the vents.

He was lying there, propped up on his elbows. He waved slightly when he saw her, then slid out of view.

Natasha held back her laughter as she turned back to the stunned group. "Any other questions?"

A man stepped up, one of the bigger ones. "How can you train us? You can't even fight!"

Her smile disappeared. "What's your name?"

He glared at her. "Gerald."

"Well, Gerald, come onto the mat. Let's go a few rounds."

He smirked at his fellow companions then stepped onto the mat, confident. He swung at her but she caught it and flipped him to the ground, her ankles around his neck.

She stood up and brushed herself off. "Can anyone guess who I am?"

The men stood, jaws dropping. "Black Widow," one of them whispered.

She nodded, please. "Would anyone else like to object to my training skills?"

They all shook their heads.

"Good," she purred. "Now let's go started."

* * *

Many groans escalated from the men as they lay on the ground, mostly unconscious.

Natasha brushed her hands against her suit. "Anyone else?"

"I'll take a shot."

She spun around, ready to deal with the intruder, but smiled. "Hey Clint. Thanks."

He removed himself from his position on the wall, while looking at the knockout arrows sprouting from the few men who had dared ask her out after she had warned them. "For what?" he said innocently.

She smiles at him; not an evil smile like she had given the others, not a simple smile like most people; a genuine smile. "You ready to get out of here? I don't think Fury's going to be too happy."

He reaches her. "Your room?"

She smiles, biting her lip. "Let's go."

They walk out of the training room, ignorant to everyone else, only having eyes for each other. When they reach Natasha's room, she punches in a few buttons, making sure Clint can't see, and the door slides open. She collapses on her bed while he leans against the wall, arms crossed. "Thank was fun," he said with a smirk.

Her eyes flicker to his. "What? Beating up recruits?"

"No."

When she can't detect the hidden meaning, she only smiles. "Люблю тебя," she says softly, knowing he can't understand her.

"What did you say?"

She only shakes her hand." Идиот," she says.

Clint cocked his head. He's heard that phrase a lot. "Did you just call me an idiot?"

Natasha laughs as he shakes his head. "Oh, Tasha, what will I do with you?"

She sits up on her bed, leaning against the wall. She pats beside her. "Sit."

He obeys, and they sit there, comfortably. Not touching, but it's enjoyable. Just the two of them.

Suddenly, a voice comes over SHIELD's loudspeaker. "AGENT ROMANOFF! I WANT YOU IN MY OFFICE RIGHT NOW! AND BRING BARTON TOO!" By the sound of his voice, Fury's mad.

Clint stands up, smiling. He holds out a hand to his tired partner. "Ready to face Fury's fury?"

She fights back a laugh. "As long as I'm with you, I'm always ready." She steps out of the room, leaving a stunned Clint.

**Russian Translations:**

_She smiles again. "Люблю тебя," she says softly, knowing he can't understand her. (I love you)_

_ She only shakes her hand." Идиот," she says. (Idiot) _


	9. I Thought You Were Dead

He stares down at her seemingly lifeless body, and a sob escapes from his throat. "No," he whispers.

He kneels down beside her, scooping her up in his arms. He ignores the blood. "Tasha, wake up!"

She's nonresponsive. He barely notices as the rest of the team fly to the ground, their faces solemn. He faintly hears Steve talking to someone, but doesn't notice. He only holds her body tighter.

A hand is placed on his shoulder. He immediately stiffens. "Get your hand off of me," he growls.

The hand doesn't move. "Clint," Tony says softly. "I'm sorry."

He ignores the billionaire, only holding her tighter. Suddenly the noise of a helicopter fills the air and a team of medical surrounds him and her.

They try and pull her away from him, but he doesn't move. Doesn't loosen his grip.

He feels someone try and pull her away from him. He snarls, and they lean back. A moment later Steve's face appears in front of him. "Clint, you need to let her go. The medical team is here."

He allows her to be removed gently form his arms, watching her body being transferred to a stretcher. His hawk eyes watch her, never wavering.

He feels himself being pulled off the ground and catches a glimpse of a red, white, and blue shield. He walks slowly on to the craft, not caring that he was bleeding. Badly.

A hand forced him down. He was pushed, not gently, into a chair while the medical team examined him. He watched as they studied Natasha, occasionally shaking their heads. With each nod, he was hopeful. With each murmur of doubt, his heart pounded.

_Please God, let her not be dead. Don't take her away from me. Not here. Not now. _

Tony stands before him, his helmet off. His face is sympathetic. "How you holding up?" His voice is surprisingly soft, an unusual thing.

Clint finally looks around, ignoring the sympathetic looks on his team's faces.

Thor and Bruce are leaned up against the helicopter wall, staring at the floor. Steve is sitting in the co-pilot's seat, with Fury in the pilot's. Natasha . . . he stares at her lifeless body, unable to move.

She looks so peaceful, so innocent. Her red curls are spread across the makeshift bed, her eyes closed. He wishes they would open, to reassure him she was all right.

His breathing becomes uneven as a pain shoots up his arm. His vision turns red, and the last thing he hears is Bruce's voice, yelling for help.

* * *

His eyes fly open and he shoots up, unable to understand where he is.

Then it rushes back to him. The mission. Pain. _Natasha. _

He glances over at the bed beside him and a pain of worry comes through him. "Where is she," he growls. This isn't a question that he's going to be refused of.

Tony glances around. "Who?"

His fist clench and he punches Tony in the face. The billionaire fall back in pain as Clint gets out of bed, desperate to see his partner.

When he reaches the door, he is stopped by a doctor. "Agent Barton, get back-" His voice is cut off as Clint pinches a nerve on his neck, causing him to fall to the ground.

He storms out the door, walking. He's not sure where he's going, but he doesn't care. He's going to find her.

Suddenly her room looms before him. Pausing, and ignoring the loud alarms going off, he punches in a password. It opens, much to his relief, and he storms in.

Relief comes over him as he sees her; she is lying on her bed, sleeping peacefully. She's all cleaned up and there is no blood, at least that he can see.

He gulps and walks towards her bed. He sits down gently, his hand finding hers. "Hey," he says softly.

Immediately her eyes fly open. "Clint?"

His hand grips hers tighter. "You're alive."

She sits up slowly. "You're supposed to be in the infirmary."

Their eyes meet, and he can barely stand it. "You're alive."

Her eyes fill with confusion. "Why do you keep saying that?"

"I held you in my arms . . . and you were dead."

She bites her lip. "That was three weeks ago. You've been unconscious. It was only a bullet wound."

He doesn't care. "You're alive," he says as he grips her hand tighter.

Her green eyes flicker over him. "You need to get back to the infirmary, and-"

He brings his lips to hers.

There is a moment of shock before she kisses back, making hope spread through him.

She pulls away after . . . he doesn't know. "Why did you do that?" she asks, breathless.

Their eyes meet, once more. "I thought you were dead," he whispers.

She smiles and brings his face close to his. "I'm right here," she says quietly. "I'm not leaving."

Their lips come together, once again.


	10. Warmth

_He walked towards her, a smirk on his face. "Oh, Tasha," he said. _

_ She tried to get up, but the pain in her leg was too great. It didn't help that he had punched her in the stomach, either. _

_ He knelt down beside her, placing his rough hand on her cheek, forcing her to look at him. "Tasha." He smirked again, his hand no longer gentle. Then again, it never was._

_ She didn't whimper, as much as she wanted to. She wanted to cry out, to make him snap out of it. "Don't call me that."_

_ He let out a hallow laugh, making her wince. "You're weak. You're selfish. You deserve to die."_

_ His words stung her, giving him as opening chance. He lifted his bow and drew an arrow from his quiver. He aimed it at her neck._

_ For a moment, no one spoke. Her green eyes were wide. "Clint," she whispered. "This isn't-"_

_ The arrow released. It was inches from her neck when-_

She screamed and sat up in her bed, swearing in Russian as she did. She took deep breathes, trying to calm herself. It didn't work.

His gaze would always be on her mind, always killing her. He was going to kill her.

Pushing the covers off, she stepped out of bed. She walked over to her dresser and grabbed the black and red hairbrush, a gift from Pepper. The assassin brushed her hair slowly, wincing slightly at the small knots.

She set the brush down gently, and looked in the mirror.

A twenty-four year old girl was staring back at her, not even a hint of a smile. Her red hair had grown longer since the Chautari attacked, now coming a little past her shoulders. It was wavy now, a result of brushing it.

She took a deep breath and glanced at the clock, groaning when she saw the time. 3:21.

She turned to the door and opened it, walking into the living room. She held back a laugh when she saw Bruce slumped over a computer, snoring. _If he snores like this when he's human, I'd hate to hear what it sounds like when he's the Hulk. _

Shaking her head slightly, she filled pulled a glass from the cabinets and filled it with iced water. Looking around, she thought about her nightmare.

They had started a few months ago, a few nights after Clint had come back to normal and they saved the earth. She had dismissed it, telling herself they would go away. She was wrong.

A slight movement caught her eye and she whirled around, impulsively reaching for a gun at her side. Her fingers groped air and she cursed, not bothering to hide her anger.

A laugh came out of the darkness. She recognized it, but didn't relax one bit. "It's only me."

She grabbed her glass again, putting it to her lips. "Stop scaring me then."

He slid out of the shadows, having been propped up against the wall. "Can't sleep?"

Her eyes flickered to his, relaxing slightly when she saw the color. "I'm fine."

He sat on the bar stool, a few inches away from her. He snorted. "You may be able to fool Fury, but you sure as hell can't fool me."

Her eyes narrowed. "Watch me."

It was an unwavering gaze; neither of the partners wanted to admit defeat. Luckily, they didn't have to.

A groan was heard in the corner and both assassins looked at Bruce, who had sat up and was rubbing his eyes. "Did I fall asleep?"

Clint looked at Natasha. She shrugged. "I only came out a few minutes ago."

Bruce stretched and stood up, leaving the pair alone.

She sighed, fingering her glass. "I'm fine. Focus on yourself."

He shook his head, his eyes taking in her appearance. "You look like you were hit by a bus."

"More like a train."

Clint started tapping his fingers on the counter, impatient. "You can trust me. I'm not going to hurt you."

_I'm not going to hurt you. _Those words echoed through her mind, making her wince. He had made that same promise before . . . before he nearly killed her. She knew mentally it hadn't been him, but her body and soul didn't.

She had been damaged beyond repair.

Clint stared at her, his gaze unwavering. "Tell me."

Natasha shook her head and made to move past him. Within a flash he grabbed her wrist, preventing her. She shivered at his touch.

The red haired assassin didn't look at her partner. "Clint," she said in a voice that would have made the average man wet himself. "Let go."

Clint wasn't the average man. "No."

She yanked her hand out of his wrist and fled the room, leaving behind a stunned and angry archer. Not the best combination.

* * *

She slides into her room, making as little noise as possible. Her mind is whirling from the events, and she hates it. No man has ever made her feel flustered. No man should.

Natasha falls onto her bed, refusing to let herself cry. Crying is a sign of weakness, at least in her opinion. _I'm not weak. I'm not. _

Her mind chooses this moment to force a memory into her brain, or, as Clint would put it, pulling her out and stuffing something else in.

_"There's not many people that can sneak up on me." _

_ She steps into the light, ignoring the feeling of dread. "But you figured I'd come."_

_ He tortures her, threatening to have her partner, her lover, kill her. "Is this love, Agent Romanoff?"_

_ She's terrified. _

A sharp noise pounds her out of her thoughts and she acts on instinct, sliding her hand underneath the pillow and grabbing the gun, pointing it at the noise.

A figure is standing in the corner, leaning against the wall. "Tell me," he growls, moving into the light.

Once glance at his eyes shows it's him, but that doesn't make her any less cautious. "Черт, нет," she says angrily. "Get out of my room. Now."

He doesn't move. "Put down the gun."

Glancing down at her fingers, she realizes she's still holding it. "Get out and I will."

Something flashes across his face and he strides across the room. She can't breathe as he sits next to her on the bed, his eyes taking in every detail. "I'm sick and tired of you avoiding me."

She shifts away from him as he leans closer. "Get out." Her voice is not angry, not calm. Just . . . upset.

He doesn't move. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough. "What did I do to you?"

Natasha shakes her head, refusing to talk.

After a few moments, she feels his hand on her shoulder. She's shocked. Before this, before Loki, he wouldn't have dared touch her. "Tasha," he said quietly. "Look at me."

She shifts her head a little, and suddenly they're face to face.

Her green eyes flickered over his brown eyes. Brown, not electric blue. His are full of sadness, anger; hers are full of fear.

Neither of them moves, afraid of startling the other. Clint glances at Natasha's lips; only once, but it's enough.

She brings her lips to his, releasing the flood.

* * *

She's warm. Extremely warm.

Her eyes flicker open. They look ahead, then down at the hand curled around her waist. She bites her lip, unsure of what to do.

From the sunlight streaming through the windows and the sound of far off yelling, it should be about nine. His light snoring makes her want to laugh, but she stops herself just in time, not wanting to wake him.

She tries to pull away, but his grip is almost suffocating. It would have, had she not been a spy. She pinches a nerve on his arm and it goes limp for a second, allowing her to squeeze out of his tight grip.

Natasha stands up and stretches, keeping one eye on her sleeping partner. Taking a step towards the exit, she pauses when he shifts a little, muttering something in his sleep.

She sighs in relief when he doesn't say anything else. Continuing out the door, she runs into Pepper.

The CEO smiles at her. "Hey, Natasha."

Natasha nods once, then continues towards the kitchen. Bruce is already there, sipping his coffee and reading the newspaper with Steve. Tony is browsing through the cupboards, muttering under his breath.

When he spots the assassin, he frowns. "Spidey, do you know where Clint put the-"

"Bottom drawer, to the left."

He nods and opens the drawer. Natasha turns her attention away from him when another door opens, revealing a sleepy Clint.

Clint eyes flicker from Steve, to Tony, to Bruce, and finally land on the one person he's been looking for.

She quickly looks away from him and busies herself making coffee. She ignores his footsteps as he steps around the counter, walking towards her. She is shocked when he wraps his arms around her, placing his head on her shoulder.

For a moment, nobody moves. Steve looks sad, already planning Clint's funeral, Bruce has a look of shock on his face, and Tony's face is one of glee.

She surprises them all by leaning into the archer.

Tony's eyes widen. "Uh . . . Clint?"

The archer looks at the billionaire. "Yeah?"

Tony blinks. "Why aren't you dead yet?"

Clint laughs. "Why would I be dead?"

Natasha grabs his hand and pulls him out of the kitchen, away from their team. This time they go to his room, which is further away from the chaos.

* * *

She collapses onto his bed, tired. He just shakes his head. "We really scared them."

She laughed for the first time in months. "Yeah, we did."

He crawls beside her, gently wrapping his hands around her body and pulling him closer to her. His touch is gentle, sweet.

She snuggles closer to him. "Я люблю тебя," she says quietly.

He pulls her even closer. "Я люблю тебя до, мой паук."

**Translations:**

_Once glance at his eyes shows it's him, but that doesn't make her any less cautious. "Черт, нет," she says angrily. "Get out of my room. Now." (Hell, no)_

_She snuggles closer to him. "Я люблю тебя," she says quietly. (I love you)_

_He pulls her even closer. "Я люблю тебя до, мой паук." (I love you to, my spider)_


	11. Why?

Why?

The word rushed through her mind as she stared at her partner beside her. His face was turned towards the movie, but his hands seemed to have a mind of their own.

He was rubbing her back, his hands running up and down her spine.

It gave her chills.

She curiously looked at the other Avengers, to see if they had taken notice. They hadn't.

Looking back at her partner, she was torn. It felt good, comforting even. Then again, he's been doing a lot of things like this lately.

* * *

_She sat down on the couch, exhausted. He collapsed on the other end, leaning his head back. "That was a rough mission," she muttered._

_ He groaned. "We nearly died."_

_ "How is that different than usual?"_

_ He didn't answer, so she leaned her head back, closing her eyes._

_ Then, she felt something on her foot._

_ She tensed up, not knowing what it was. Upon opening her eyes, she was shocked. _

_ Her partner was rubbing her foot with his thumb, gently, slowly. It felt surprisingly good. No one had ever done that before._

* * *

She kept her gaze on her partner's face. His head was leaning back against the couch, eyes closed. The movie was still playing, but she couldn't focus. He was still rubbing her back, annoyingly close to her.

* * *

_She lay on the bed, her eyes wide open. The nightmares wouldn't stop. They taunted her, slowly, but surely, breaking her. She shivered._

_ A noise was heard from the side of the room, but she didn't take notice. Normally she would have, but her senses were dull from the horrors._

_ Suddenly she felt a finger on her arm, trailing up and down. Her eyes flew open, but she couldn't move. It was oddly comforting, lulling her back to sleep._

_ Before she was gone, a quiet chuckle came from her right. "Sleep now," he muttered._

_ And she did._

* * *

She shook her head, chasing away the memories. A small snort came from her right, and she glanced over at the sleeping doctor. Smiling, she focused back on her partner.

He had stopped rubbing her back and was inching his fingers up to her neck. If any other person had done that, she would have snapped their neck before they could take another breath. With Clint, it felt oddly right.

His eyes were open now, staring at the movie. She also looked at the screen, smiling slightly when the main character, a girl with flaming orange hair, shoot a bow and arrow, pegging the target dead center.

* * *

_She ducked as he threw another punch at her. Sweeping her feet under his, she managed to knock him down. She pinned him to the ground, her hands on his arms. "I win," she said, smiling. _

_ He winked at her, and before she knew it, he had flipped them over, him on top. Her smile turned to a frown as she tried to get him off of her, but she knew it was useless. She may have been the Black Widow, but he was still twice as strong as her, from years shooting arrows. _

_ She gently pushed his chest, their signal for him to get off of her. He complied, rolling over so they were lying on the ground, next to each other, almost touching. _

_ It was silent, both partners thinking of different things. She started to get up, but felt something, gently, touch her upper arm. _

_ She looked at him, surprised. His eyes were on her as she slowly laid back down, his thumb still rubbing her shoulder, his hand keeping a firm, but soft, grip. _

_ The next morning, Tony walked into the training room, whistling. He stopped short and a gleeful smile crossed his face as he saw the pair. They had fallen asleep, his hand still on her shoulder._

* * *

His fingers had reached her neck now; she stiffened slightly. She looked at him, confused. His eyes were bearing into hers, and she realized how close they were.

It was like he was reading her, discovering every secret. His eyes flickered to her mouth; only once, but she felt warmth spreading through her.

The moment was broken by Tony, who had paused the movie. "Anyone up for popcorn?"

She immediately shifted away from her partner, a light blush on her cheeks. His fingers dropped from her neck and she didn't look at him as Tony got up and walked into the kitchen, even though she could feel him looking at her.

It felt like hours when Tony finally came back, holding a giant bowl of popcorn. It was passed around, from person to person. When it was held in front of Natasha, she politely declined; she didn't necessarily like popcorn.

Tony pressed play and the picture started moving again. Natasha tried to ignore Clint's eyes on her, but she felt uncomfortable.

The movie was almost over again when she felt it; a light touch on her fingers. She could hardly breathe. The touch continued, wrapping her hand around itself.

She realized it brought warmth to her, peaceful warmth. She began to breath normally again, meeting her partner's eyes.

He nodded slightly at her, his hand wrapped around hers. She let a small smile appear on her lips. "Почему?" she said as quietly as possible, not wanting to alert the other Avengers.

His gaze flickered to her lips again. Not removing his gaze, he spoke. "Комфорт," he said softly.

Her smile grew wider. Comfort, indeed.

* * *

She got up quietly. By the end of the movie almost everyone had fallen asleep, even Clint. She smiled as she looked at them; they really were a bunch of children. Immortal, genius, super hero children.

She stepped from the room, walking down the long hallway. The lights were dim, barely enough for a person to see. Her room was at the end of the hall, across from Clint's, and she took her time getting there.

She took a deep breath, unsure. For some reason she felt compelled to go into Clint's room, not her own. Fighting battles, Clint's room won.

She opened his door and was surprised to find the lights on. She smiled a little at the messy room, shaking her head. _He really needs a maid. _

The assassin slid into her partner's bed, breathing in his scent. It was comforting, just like his touch. She pulled the covers up to her shoulders, still felling the ghost of his fingers.

* * *

Clint rubbed his eyes and looked around. Tony was passed out of the couch, Steve was asleep on the other one, Thor had conked out on a chair, and Bruce had fallen asleep on the floor. His eyes widened when he realized who was missing. _Natasha. _

Quietly, as not to alert anyone, he gets up and walked to her room. Opening the door, he sees no one. A feeling of panic comes of him, when he sees something unusual.

His door is cracked open.

More curious then anything, he opens his door and sighs in relief. She is curled up on his bed, sleeping soundly.

He wonders why she's in his bed instead of her own. Then a smile comes across his face.

He crosses the room and stares at her. Her red curls are spread across one of the pillows and her body is slightly curled. He crawls beside her, wrapping one arm gently around her middle, pulling her close to him.

As he falls asleep, he wonders what he did to deserve her.

**Translations:**

_She let a small smile appear on her lips. "Почему?" she said as quietly as possible, not wanting to alert the other Avengers. (Why?)_

_Not removing his gaze, he spoke. "Комфорт," he said softly. (Comfort) _


	12. Tattoo

Tony Stark was generally a curious man. After all, how would he have gotten to the top had he not poked his nose in other people's business?

His CEO and girlfriend, Pepper, had an entire list of reason who he shouldn't do that. However, Tony only listens to his girlfriend on occasions, this not being one of them.

This time, he had a reason. A very good reason.

They were all eating shawarma, exhausted after the battle. His eyes were generally tired, almost dropping off when he spotted something; Natasha was leaning over the table, reaching for the salt. There was a flash of something just below her wrist, a picture of some sort.

Tony leaned forward. "What's on your wrist, Romanoff?"

She immediately jerked her hand back and folded her arms. "Nothing."

He raised an eyebrow. "Nothing? Then turn your wrist over."

Natasha sneered at him, but he could see a flicker of fear in her eyes. "You can't tell me what to do."

"I'll pay you a thousand bucks."

"Nope."

"Three thousand?"

The bantering continued, Stark raising the money. Finally, he groaned and leaned back, defeated. "You won't take ten thousand dollars in exchange for showing me what's hidden underneath your wrist?"

She leaned back, a small smile on her face. "Nope."

Tony watched as she looked over at Clint. He was frowning, but the billionaire wasn't sure why. Something exchanged between them, and the red haired assassin let out a little sigh. "You really want to know what's on my wrist?"

Tony nodded quickly, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Yes!"

By now the entire table was listening, all ears. She looked at Clint and smiled. "Pay up. Then I'll talk."

Pulling his wallet out, he signed a check for ten thousand dollars. The assassin pocketed it, satisfied. She lifted her hand to the middle of the table and flipped it open, causing every mouth to drop open.

A small hawk was tattooed there, to look like it was flying.

Tony smacked his head against the table. "I paid ten thousand dollars to see _that_!"

Natasha only smiled, retreating her hand. Thor spoke up. "Why does Lady Natasha have a hawk on her wrist?"

In a moment, the entire table looked to Clint.

The archer shrugged, leaning back against his chair. "You didn't pay me to tell you."

Tony narrowed his eyes and pulled out his check book again, this time signing it for three thousand. The archer took it and frowned. "How come she gets ten thousand, and I get-"

Tony held out a hand. "That's all the money people are conning off of me today."

Clint nodded and placed his hand in the middle of the table, flipping it over. Once again, jaws dropped.

There was a small black widow tattooed there.

Tony's eyes flickered to Natasha, then Clint. "Now I'm confused."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Are the tattoo's not enough? I thought you were supposed to be a genius."

Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place. Tony's eyes widened as he spoke. "You two are married?"

Clint nodded. Then the questions started.

"How long have you been married?"

"Does Fury know?"

"How did you hide this?"

"You didn't have it when you were Natalie."

All eyes turned to Tony, who had asked the last question. "What? I'm observant!"

Clint's eyes narrowed. "Observant when looking at my wife?"

Tony gulped and didn't say another word.

Natasha smiled. "No, I wasn't married when I was Natalie. We got married two years ago, in Budapest. If Fury does know, he hasn't made himself known."

Bruce was just shaking his head. "When did you start dating?"

The couple exchanged a small smile. "Right after he brought me in," Natasha said quietly.

Steve smiled slightly. "Congratulations!"

The rest of the Avengers hurried to add in their belated congratulations, and the rest of the meal of spent in silence. No one could believe that the deadliest people ever to walk to planet were married.

* * *

The two assassins walked into Stark tower, slightly relieved that they didn't have to hide their relationship from their teammates. It had been bad enough when he was taken; they both didn't want to have to hide it any longer.

The rest of the team trailed behind, still slightly in shock. For once, even the 'other guy' wasn't angry. He was . . . to put it lightly, confused.

Natasha rolled her eyes at the other men, winking at her partner. "Guys, when are you going to get over this?"

Tony shook his head. "I think . . . never."

Clint grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her into the hallway, away from prying eyes. Looking down at her stomach, he speaks.

"If this is how they reacted when we told them we were married, how do you think they're going to react when we tell them you're pregnant?"


	13. Tears

_A flash of darkness. A pierce of red._

_ She stood before him, watching as he took the knife. She was wounded, exhausted, but she could do nothing. Silver bounds held her wrists. Her once silky hair was matted and her green eyes were wide in terror._

_ He brought the knife closer to her neck, reaching his other hand out as he did. His empty hand wound itself around her neck, holding her tighter. She winced slightly._

_ The knife brought a sliver of blood as desperation over took him. He tried to fight it, to save her; it was too late. Loki had won. Everything was gone. _

His eyes flew open and he lay there for a moment, trying to gather his bearings. _In my room. Stark tower. _Breathing heavily, he glanced around the dark room.

After the battle, Tony had been generous enough to offer rooms for all of them, even Thor when he was on Earth. Clint was no different, although Tony didn't seem to fully trust the archer. Clint couldn't blame him.

He threw the covers off and walked towards the door, not knowing what he was doing. He had to get out of the suffocating room.

Clint stopped in the doorway when he spotted a shadow across the floor. Looking up, his heart stopped.

She was on the ledge by the window, watching. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, her red curls spilling over her. Her gaze was unwavering. Moonlight covered her, making her seem like an angel. She was dressed in a black tank top and long, fitting sweat pants, highlighting her pale skin even more than usual.

His eyes flickered to her face. Her green eyes were unblinking, unmoving. It was clear she was deep in thought. Then, he spotted a tear run down her face.

Without a second thought he strode across the room, wrapping her in his arms. She responded, burying her head in his chest. The pair sat there for a moment in silence.

He adjusted himself so he could pull her into his lap, making a small sob escape from her lips. He stroked her hair. "Nat," he whispered.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with sorrow. "You died."

He shook his head. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Her green eyes seemed to pierce him. She gently placed a hand on his cheek, as if trying to make sure he was real, that she wasn't dreaming. "Is he gone? Forever?"

His eyes narrowed slightly. "He's not coming near here," he vowed, remembering the evil god. "I won't let him."

She nodded slightly. "Just making sure," she said quietly, the words slipping from her lips. Her head fell against his chest.

He smiled softly upon realizing that she had fallen asleep. Careful not to wake her, he picked her up in his arms. She didn't stir as he carried her to his room.

She murmured something that he couldn't catch when he set her on his bed, resting her head on one of the pillows. Slipping in beside her, he pulled the covers over to two of them.

She moved closer to her partner and he responded, slipping his calloused hand into her delicate one. Their hands rested on her stomach.

This wasn't unusual for the pair. On missions they often shared the same bed; although they had slept back to back, never like this. Never so close.

He could tell she was fragile right now, and he didn't want to break her. But, he was afraid Loki already had. The god had shattered her, promising things Clint could never forgot. He had watched the SHIELD files a little after it was all over; through all his years as her partner, he had never seen her more afraid.

She stirred slightly, causing the archer to hold her tighter. He slipped on arm onto her pillow, gently stroking her hair. She stayed still after that.

He watched her sleep.

* * *

Clint cracked his eyes open. Sunlight was streaming through the windows and it was surprisingly warm, considering the tower's heating and cooling systems were always flickering on and off.

He looked down, suddenly discovering why it was so warm.

She was still curled up against him, no longer shivering. It was a peaceful and sweet, something he rarely saw in the fiery Russian assassin.

Natasha stirred suddenly, causing him to flinch out of his thoughts. She flinched and sat up slowly. "Clint?"

He copied her, leaning against the headboard. "I'm right here, Tasha."

She folded her legs underneath her, keeping her eyes trained on him. "What happened? I remember sitting by the window . . . then everything else was a blur."

He held back a smile as he remembered the events of last night. "I found you there, mumbling like crazy." He paused, remembering the tears. "I brought you back here."

Her eyes flickered to his. "Thanks," she said softly.

He shrugged. "We couldn't have you crying, now could we?"

She punched him lightly in the arm. "Come on, let's go have breakfast. By now everyone else should be up." His partner gracefully got off the bed, walking out the door.

He followed her closely as they walked into the common room. Bruce and Steve were watching something on T.V, Thor was rubbing his hammer, Tony was leaning against the counter and Pepper was flipping pancakes.

Tony raised an eyebrow, but before he could speak, Clint shot a warning glare at him. "Not a word, Stark."

He closed his mouth, settling for an amused expression.

Natasha sat down on a bar stool. Clint sat on the one next to her, and within moments two plates full of steaming hot pancakes were placed in front of them.

Clint nodded politely at Pepper. "Thank you, Miss Potts."

She nodded. "Call me Pepper."

Before Clint could say anything, Tony spoke. "Miss Potts is fine," he said, his voice blunt.

He felt a nudge in his side and looked at Natasha. Her eyes were sparkling. _Someone's jealous, _her eyes said.

He snorted. _Jealous of me? Yeah right. _

The hint of a smile appeared. _You're mine. Don't let anyone else take that away. _

Clint nodded, happiness filling him. "Love you," he said quietly.

Her eyes flickered over him. "Love you too," she said, making sure the others didn't hear.

His life was complete.


	14. Memories

The tension in the room is thick as the doctor and nurses crowd around the sleeping redhead. Finally, one of the nurses spoke, addressing her senior boss. "Dr. James, will she be alright?"

The aged doctor let his eyes travel from the unconscious girl to the younger nurse. "We ran a few cat scans. It appears that she is physically fine, but not mentally." He took a deep breath. "She appears to be shy a few memories."

The nurse nods, then turns her gaze back to the patient. "Do we know who she is?"

Dr. James shook his head, his expression grave. "We may never know."

An alarm rings, causing the doctor to jerk his head up. Striding out of the room, he motions to several of his colleagues. "Johnson! Chou! Stay here. Everyone else, follow me." The nurses complied, leaving the two men with the sleeping girl.

One of the men gestured to the girl. "Who do you think she is? A mental patient or something?"

The other smirked. "Whoever she is, she's hot."

The former, the darker skinned one, cuffed his companion on the back of the head. "She's like nineteen!"

David Johnson laughed, ducking away from his partner's blow. "Joking, joking. Besides, the girl still has to regain her memory."

Blake Chou nodded, then turned around, hand on the doorknob. "Come on, let's go." Both men filed out of the room, leaving the patient to her sleep.

There was no denying she was beautiful, no matter how young she was. Her red hair was long and straightened, giving her the appearance of a princess, or a queen. Her normally emerald green eyes were closed, her pale skin in color with the white bed and the surrounding room. Around her neck was a simple necklace, a blue gray jewel thread on a silver line. Her body was mostly covered by blankets, but her chest rose again and again, the only sign she was alive.

Suddenly she shifted, and a pained expression crossed her face. "Clint," she muttered quietly. Then she was still.

* * *

A fist slammed against the table, causing more than one agent to jump. "Tell me," The man with the eye patch growled. "How the hell do you lose one of the best agents SHIELD has ever known?"

Tony Stark glared back. "How do you expect me to know! There was an explosion, and then she went missing!"

The Captain cleared his throat. "Fury, we already have Thor searching for her, as well as JARVIS scanning the area. We're doing to best we-"

Fury's facial expression stopped the age old captain. "Do you have any idea what to consequences of this are? The council will have my neck, and Barton . . . flip a coin boys, because I'm sure ain't telling him that you lost his partner."

Tony froze. "You won the coin toss."

Fury spun around, only to meet the horrified gaze of his best agent. Clint's fists were clenched and his jaw was set. "What happened to Nat?" His tone was calm, but even the youngest agent in the room could tell that he was furious.

Fury huffed. "Thanks to Stark here, Agent Romanoff is missing."

The archer's glare went from his boss to Tony, who threw his hands up in the air. "It wasn't my fault! She told me to press the button!"

Clint took a deep breath, on the verge of exploding. "Where is she?"

The director shook his head. "That is classified information-"

"Where. Is. She."

Steve spoke up. "Agent Romanoff was last seen somewhere in Florence, but-"

Clint was gone, the only sign he was ever there was a knife embedded in the wall, inches from Tony's head.

* * *

Her eyes opened, once, then twice. Flurried shapes came above her, voices faintly reaching her ears.

She sat up, flinching slightly at the surprise shout of the nurses. Her fingers immediately went to her temples. Her head was pounding.

She looked around. Two people were crowded around her; a kindly looking man in a white coat, and a short woman in similar attire. The man spoke. "My dear, how are you feeling?" His tone was sympathetic.

Her eyes narrowed. "Where am I?"

This time the woman responds. "You are in Milan, Italy. You were brought in by our emergency response time, who found you near the ocean, barely breathing." She paused. "What do you remember?"

The girl shakes her head. "Um . . ."

The doctor steps in. "What is your name?" His voice is a lot kinder than the nurse's.

Her brow furrows, but after a few seconds it comes to mind. "Natalia."

He writes something on the clipboard, then smiles at her. "Okay, Natalia. You suffered from first degree burns on your back, a cracked rib, and a concussion. After a few cat scans, we have been able to determine that you have some memory loss. Can you please tell us everything you know?"

Her mind is hazy. The only memory . . .

_Her body is curled up against something. She is very warm. Looking up, she sees a man. His gray blue eyes are smiling, his brown hair messy. _

_ "Tasha," he says. "What movie?"_

_ She pushes a finger against his chest. "You know what movie."_

_ He fake groaned, causing her to laugh. "My spider," he says affectionately. _

Her mind floods to the present. "I remember a man."

The doctor jots down another note. "What does he look like?"

"Brown hair, gray blue eyes."

His eyebrows raise. "Like your necklace?"

'Natalia' looks down. "Exactly."

"Do you know his name?"

A flicker of thought crosses her mind, but it is gone before she can react. "Sorry."

The doctor nods and puts the clipboard to his side, turning towards the door. "Miss Natalia, we will try our best to figure out who you are. For now, relax. Your body needs to heal." He left, followed by his companion.

She leans against the pillow, a small sigh escaping her lips. _Remember. Who is he? And why does he make me laugh?_

* * *

Tony burst through Clint's door, only to find the archer packing. "Clint!"

The assassin doesn't turn around, only places something in his bag. "What do you want, Stark?"

"We think we've found her!"

Clint whirls around, this time fully listening. "Where?"

Tony takes a deep breath, the result of running. "A Natalia was found in a hospital in Milan, Italy!"

"Is it her?"

"It's the closest thing we have."

The archer nods and slings his back over his shoulder. "Let's go."

Tony hesitates. "Not now, I have to-"

"Now."

Something in the archer's voice makes Tony stop, and he makes himself think he was in his friend's place, and Pepper was missing. He nods. "Let's go."

* * *

'Natalia' shakes her head. "Someone is here to see me?"

The nurse nods. "A man named . . ." She checks the piece of paper in her hand. "Loki?"

A chill runs down the patient's spine, but she ignores it. "Send him in."

The nurse nods, then stepped out. A few seconds later she returns with a man.

A smirk is on the man's face, giving 'Natalia' chills. His skin is inhumanly pale and his outfit is even weirder, a black coat of some sort.

The nurse nods and leaves, while Loki sits on a chair near her bed.

She regards him curiously. "You know who I am?"

He laughs. "Natasha Romanoff, agent of SHIELD, partner to Clint Barton, deadly."

Natasha laughs. "I believe you about the name, but deadly? You've got to be joking."

Loki smiles. "We have a lot to talk about."

* * *

Clint storms into the foyer, much to the surprise of the nurse. "Natalia," he growls.

The nurse's eyes widened. "Tony Stark? Hawkeye?"

Tony pushes him out of the way. "We are here to see Natalia." He flashes a signature smile.

The nurse smiles back. "She is currently with another visitor, so you will have to wait."

A chill runs down Clint's spine. "What visitor?"

"His name is quite unusual. Loka? Lomi?"

"Loki?"

She smiles. "That's it."

Clint's eyes widen. "What is her room number?"

"247, but you will have to- Sir! Come back here!"

Clint runs down the hall, searching the numbers. "241, 243, 245, 247!" The door is flung open, revealing a horrifying sight.

Natasha is chatting with the god, who is laughing.

Without a second thought Clint pushes the god to the floor, creating a cry from the girl. "Hey! What was that for?"

Clint's eyes widen as he looks at his partner. "Nat! Why did you let him in!"

She cocks her head. "Nat?"

He shakes his head, grabbing her wrist. The archer pulls her out of the bed, forcing her towards the door. "There is no time! We've got to get out of here!"

To his surprise, she resists. "Let go of me!"

He grabs something from his belt and plunges a syringe into her neck. Immediately she goes limp and he scoops her up in his arms, running down the hallway.

* * *

Her eyes fly open and she sits up, punching the first thing. A cry sounds out and Clint falls to the ground, clutching his shoulder. "Geez Nat, stop punching me!"

She looks around. "Where am I?"

He stands up. "Hospital wing."

Her eyes narrow. "Clint, what happened?"

"Well, we started to- wait! You remember!"

Natasha looks at him like he's crazy. "Did I forget something?"

He strides across the room and envelops her into a hug. She is stunned. "Clint, what the hell happened? Did I miss something?"

When he pulls back, she is surprised at the emotion in his voice. "You lost your memory. Loki . . . you were chatting with him. Friendly."

Her eyes widen. "Loki? What the hell happened-"

He brings his lips to hers.

She is stunned, but manages to kiss back. After . . . she doesn't know how long, he pulls back. Natasha lets out a small laugh. "Can someone please tell me what happened?"

He pulls her into another hug. "I love you," he says quietly.


	15. Ticklish

The archer stepped off the helicopter, his bag slung over his shoulder and a smile on his face. The solo mission had been a success, and he couldn't wait to get back to his partner, who had been on a mission of her own.

He whistled, not noticing the glances the other agents were giving him. They weren't of anger, or happiness, but of . . . sympathy?

Clint stepped into the debriefing room, and immediately noticed something was off. Fury was sitting on the head chair, frowning, while Agent Hill leaned against the wall, a similar expression on his face.

The moment the archer stepped into the small room, Fury looked up. "Agent Barton."

Clint nodded. "Fury."

There was a moment of silence, and Clint raised his eyebrows. "Is something wrong, sir?"

Fury exchanged a glance with Maria Hill. "Barton . . . you might want to sit down."

He didn't move, only clutched his bag tighter. "What happened to Nat?" he growled.

The director raised an eyebrow at the nickname, but remained silent. Clint turned to Agent Hill, who quickly looked away.

Clint dropped his bag to the floor and slammed his hands against the table, causing Agent Hill to flinch. "What the hell happened to my partner?"

Fury glared at him. "You have no authority to demand-"

Agent Hill interrupted him. "She's in a coma."

The archer's eyes widened and he spun around, storming out of the room, leaving his bag on the floor, discarded. Along the halls every agent moved out of the way, deathly terrified on the expression on his face.

Clint flung the door open to the medical bay, causing the receptionist to jump. His footsteps pounded along the floor. "Natasha Romanoff," he said, teeth gritted.

The receptionist's eyes widened, and she quickly turned to her keyboard. Clint tapped his foot on the ground while he waited for her answer.

When it finally came, he was furious. The nurse shook her head. "She's in room 213, but I'm afraid- sir?"

Clint stormed down the hall, not looking at the other patients. He flung to door open to her room, causing the only nurse to drop her keypad. "Sir, Agent Romanoff is not open to visitors!"

He ignored her, pushing her out of the way as he walked up to his partner's bedside.

She was deathly pale, her normally shiny hair slightly matted. Most of her body was covered by a white sheet, but he could see a faint bruise on her cheek and a new scar on her shoulder. Her chest was rising, but barely.

His eyes widened and he rounded on the nurse, who looked scared out of her mind. "What happened to her?" His voice was lethal.

She swallowed. "I'm afraid I can't release that information to anyo-"

Clint took a step forward. "Then shut it and give me the clipboard."

The shaking nurse handed it carefully to the angry archer, then fled the room. Clint shook his head slightly and flipped the first page open.

**Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow)**

** Condition: Coma**

** Injuries: Bruised cheek, broken rib, deep scratch on the shoulder, unresponsive. Major blows to the head, now in coma. Crashed twice before able to get to base and very hard to stabilize. Managed after two hours. **

He flipped through the package, but was unable to find out what had caused her condition. He sunk into the chair by her beside and glanced at his unconscious partner. She was still beautiful.

Suddenly the door flew open and Fury stormed in. "Agent Barton! You do not-" He stopped when he saw the hardened archer.

Clint's hand was placed gently on his partner's delicate one, holding it tightly. His expression was one of pure pain. It was clear he was deeply upset, and Fury was shocked. He knew that the partners were close, but it looked like Agent Barton wanted to kill himself.

Fury stepped forward and placed a hand on the agent's shoulder. Clint didn't move, only stiffened slightly. "Who did this to her," he said. It wasn't a question, Fury knew, as it was more of a statement.

The director paused, uncertainly flickering across his face. "Agent Romanoff knew the risks."

Clint stood up abruptly, causing the director to take a few steps back. "They are dead."

Fury let out a short laugh. "That was the point of her mission. She succeeded, but not before this happened," he said, gesturing to the assassin.

Clint was visibly shaking. "How could this have happened?"

The director snorted. "It shouldn't have, but there was a mole."

The archer turned around, finally facing the director. "Who?"

"We already have him in custody, there is no need-"

Clint's fists clenched. "Who?"

Fury shook his head. "We both know you would tear that guy to shreds. I am not going to tell you."

Before an argument could start, Agent Hill burst into the room, breathing heavily. "Sir! Agent Hamilton has escaped!"

Fury's eyes widened and he made a cut motion at his throat, but it was too late. Clint stormed past him.

Fury threw his hands up in the air and stormed after the furious archer, trying to stop him from killing the person who had caused his partner to be like this.

* * *

Natasha shifted slightly, a small groan releasing from her lips.

Immediately she felt a figure lean over her. "Natasha? Are you okay?"

She couldn't pinpoint the voice, instead hoping, begging, that she wasn't kidnapped. "Who are you?" Her eyes flickered open, but all she could see were blurry shapes.

A sudden pain erupted from the side of her head and she let out a cry of pain. Then the sound of someone getting hit, followed by muffled footsteps. "Tony! You don't poke someone who's been in a coma for the last two weeks!"

At this piece of information, her eyes flew open and she sat up, wincing slightly at the pain in her ribs. Tony was standing on the far side of the room, a red hand print on his arm, while Pepper was standing nearby, shooting glares at her boyfriend.

Natasha groaned. "What happened? The last thing I remember is being hit on the head."

Pepper walked towards her bedside. "You've been in a coma."

Suddenly, Natasha realized something. "Where's Clint?"

Tony laughed. "Your knight in shining armor got revenge, and is now currently being yelled at by Fury."

The assassin looked confused. "What?"

Suddenly the door burst open and a stressed Clint burst in. His eyes found Natasha and he nearly ran towards her. "Nat! You're awake!"

She nodded, taking in the appearance of her partner. "What happened?" She winced as pain shot through her head.

Clint sighed in relief. "I'm glad you're okay. They thought you weren't going to wake up."

Natasha looked at her partner like he was insane. "Are you kidding? No one kills the Black Widow!"

Tony laughed. "Yeah, but they came damn close."

Natasha gave a death glare to the billionaire, who squeaked and hid behind Pepper. "Don't kill me!"

The assassin laughed.

* * *

A burst of laughter came out of Tony's mouth as Thor sat there, dumbfounded. "Man of Iron, how is this possible? I have never been beaten!"

Tony doubles over. "Hah! You will never beat . . . what's that?"

A shrieking laughter is echoing about the main floor, and Thor stands up, wielding his hammer. "WHAT IS THIS?" he bellows, causing Tony to cover his ears.

The laugher becomes even louder. "CLINT BARTON! STOP TICKLING ME!"

A distant voice joins in the laughter. "NEVER! I WILL NEVER- OW! TASHA, STOP KICKING ME IN THE RIBS!"

Tony raises an eyebrow, but motions for Thor to sit down. "It's just our resident assassins. Although . . ." He glances thoughtfully at the ceiling. "JARVIS, are you recording this?"

"Yes sir, I am!"

Tony rubs his hands together, the look of an evil genius on his face. "Blackmail! Who would have thought the spider was ticklish?"

Thor shakes his head. "Midgardians," he mutters. "Weird."


	16. Four Times

_The first time I saw Natasha Romanoff, a.k.a, _the_ Black Widow, I didn't really see her._

_ It had been a rough mission that was supposed to be easy. Get in, kill the boss, and get out. Unfortunately, these never are._

_ It had gone wrong immediately. They were lying in wait, and I made it out with a broken rib and a dislocated shoulder. The next thing I knew I was on the ground, a person with red curls running towards me._

_ When I woke up, I was in my safe house. I had called out, but I was alone. In the corner was my gear, alone with a note. I had gently picked it up. Вы должныбыть более осторожными, мой ястреб, it read. When I asked Culson to translate, he told me it had said to be more careful. But his voice was hesitant, something I had never heard before._

_ The second time is saw her was in Italy. I was in a bar after a hard mission, drinking something. I didn't know what, and I didn't' care. Innocent were killed on this mission and I wanted to wash it all away. I remember the chiming of a bell, but I didn't bother to look towards the door. _

_ A red haired girl had sat next to me. She ordered something in Italian, saying it quietly. Then she looked at me. "Hi," she said softly. Her voice was sweet, kind. _

_ Something about her stirred a memory in my brain, but at the time I couldn't place it. I don't exactly remember what had happened next, only the feeling of her head on my shoulder, dancing on the floor. Her pale skin contrasted beautifully against mine. I was mesmerized by her beauty. I didn't know her name back then. Never asked. _

_ The third time I met her was in Russia, her home country._

_ I was walking along the roofs, scanning for a dangerous target. I had just spotted him and grabbed my bow. The next thing I knew I was on the ground, her red curls on spilling across my chest. _

_ Immediately I flipped her over and pinned her hands underneath mine. "Who are you?" I growled. _

_ She looked innocent, young. When she didn't reply, I grew restless. "Who are you?"_

_ Her green eyes had searched mine, her face growing closer. "You know me," she said softly, her lips on mine. _

_ Suddenly I was pushed off of her. Looking back, I didn't know how she had done it. I was twice her size, not to mention strong. She was gone, disappearing within the blink of an eye. _

_ The fourth time I saw her was when I was sent to kill her._

I stepped into Fury's office. He was looking over a file, a worried look on his face. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

He immediately closed the file. "Barton, yes. I have a mission."

It hadn't fazed me. I had been on many missions, creating a name for myself, even though I was only twenty two. "Here's everything you need to know." He slid the manila folder towards me, with a name on it. _Natasha Romanoff. _

It hadn't meant anything to me; at least, until I saw her picture.

Her green eyes stared at whoever had taken the pictures. She was dressed comfortably in a black tank top and dark blue jeans, her red curls cascading down her shoulders.

I swallowed, trying not to let Fury see I was worried. "Who is this?"

Fury sighed and leaned back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head. "That, Agent Barton, is Natasha Romanoff, also known as Natalia. She is as assassin who has managed to get on the bad side of SHIELD."

I quickly scanned through the folder, but stopped when a piece of paper caught my eye.

**Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow)**

**Age: Nineteen**

**Date of Birth: Unknown**

**Born in: Unknown**

The rest of the list had many unknowns. I looked up the director, stunned. "You know almost nothing about her?"

Fury glared at me. "She's quick and deadly. She'll kill before asking."

"She's only nineteen."

He leaned forward and placed both hands on his desk. "She may look innocent and sweet, but that girl is as deadly as a cobra. She has never been caught and no one's ever seen her. That's the only picture we have."

_I've seen her. _"What do you want me to do?"

"Kill her."

I nodded. "Where is she now?"

"She was last spotted in Russia, taking down one of her former employers. We're sending you there."

I slid everything back into the folder, trying to get out of there as fast as possible. "When?"

Fury's eyes- or eye, met mine. "Now."

* * *

"Agent Barton, we're almost there. Gather your gear."

I nodded and quickly slid her picture back into the folder. I had been looking at it ever since we had gotten on the plane; it was starting to worry me.

Culson cleared his throat. I looked up. "Are you okay?"

I paused. Culson was like a father to me, but I still didn't trust him completely. "Fine. Just . . . a little nervous," I lied.

He nodded. "Be careful. Widow's deadly." He shook his head, muttering something under his breath. "I still can't believe Fury picked you for this mission."

I raised an eyebrow. "Am I not good enough?"

"It's not that. The Widow has taken down far more stronger men than you, and . . . I don't want to lose another agent."

Surprised, I looked at Cuslon. His voice was surprisingly gentle. "I'll be fine."

He nodded, but didn't look convinced. "Be safe."

I opened my mouth, about to say something, but was interrupted by the pilot. "Agent Barton, we have landed. Have a nice trip."

I grinned and stepped of out of the plane, hoisting my backpack on my shoulder. It had Widow's file and held my arrow. I really didn't want to lose it.

* * *

I stepped into the house, tossing the keys in a corner. My backpack was soon discarded as I hopped on the couch, opening the folder.

I couldn't stop staring at her picture; it was terrifying, yet beautiful. I shook my head, unbelieving that this was the woman I had to kill.

A sudden movement caught my eye and I whirled around, reaching for my gun, only to remember it was in my bag. _Really smart, Barton._

Then she stepped out of the shadows, her arms hanging limply at her side.

Green eyes meet gray-blue; for a moment, there is silence. I am thinking about making for my gun, but one look at her face decided against it. She looked unarmed.

A small smile flickered across her face. "I knew someone was coming to kill me, but I didn't expect it to be you." Her voice was calm, gentle.

My eyes narrowed. "You know how I am?"

She took another step closer. "Clint Barton, agent of SHIELD. I save our life all these years ago. You should be thanking me."

I grunted. "Yeah, well I didn't know you were an assassin."

Her eyes flickered with mischief. "So are you."

I glanced around the room. "How did you get in here?"

She moved forward and sat on the couch, only a few feet from me. I froze. "I can pick any lock within ten seconds. Disarming your security system took even less." She patted the cushion beside her.

I sat down reluctantly. "What's your play?"

Her face was the picture of innocence. "My play? Nothing. You are here to kill me, not the opposite."

I stared at her, suddenly realizing how closer we were. She stretched and leaned against the side of the couch, legs folded carefully underneath her. I looked away from her. There were a million questions on my mind, but I settled with one. "Why did you approach me?"

My question was unclear; I could see it in her eyes. "You mean now? Or then?"

I brought my legs on top of the coffee table and leaned back, hands behind my head. "Then."

She shrugged, her pretty red hair shining. "You looked like you needed a friend."

"And Russia?"

Something flickered in her eyes; she looked uncertain. "I . . . I honestly don't know."

I let out a short laugh. Then the situation hit me. "What are we doing? We're supposed to be enemies."

She bit her lip and opened her mouth, but was cut off by the ringing of a phone. It made me jump slightly and she made a move to flee, but I grabbed her wrist before she could get off the couch.

Our eyes met and I nodded. "It's my phone."

She relaxed slightly and watched carefully as I pulled the silver phone from my pocket and flipped it open. "Agent Barton, speaking."

"Hey, Clint. How's your mission going? Did you find her?"

I looked at the girl. She looked comfortable, but stiffened under my gaze. "Uh . . . now yet. I will though. Got to go." I closed the phone, placing it on the table.

She stared at me. "Who was that?"

My eyes flickered over to her. "That was Culson, my handler."

She stiffened slightly, but I noticed. "What did he want?"

I paused. "To know if I found you," I said bluntly.

Her eyes searched mine. "What did you say?" she asked cautiously.

I moved myself so my entire body was facing her. "I told him I hadn't yet."

She visibly relaxed. "Thanks," she said quietly.

"One last question," I said carefully. "Your file has a lot of names. Which one would you like me to call you?"

She let a small smile appear on her face. "Natasha."

"Too long. How about Nat?"

Natasha leaned over and punched me in the arm. I leaned away, laughing. "Hey!"

She rolled her eyes. "Boys," she muttered.

* * *

I groaned once. My eyes flickered open, taking in my surroundings. I was lying on the couch, sideways, in the SHIELD safe house. Then I stiffened.

Someone was next to me.

I quickly glanced down. My arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her close to my body. Her red curls were spread everywhere, and she was asleep. Her back was to me, but it didn't take a genius to guess who it was.

My eyes widened, and my first thought was _she's going to kill me. _

When my heart rate settled down, I realized this was comfortable. Her body was warm, her back to me. I thought of waiting here, but decided she would probably kill me upon waking up.

Taking pains not to wake her, I shifted myself of the couch. I stood up and stretched, keeping one eye on the sleeping girl. She looked peaceful.

I stepped into the kitchen and pulled a coffee pot from underneath the cabinets. I turned it on the leaned against the counter, closing my eyes.

_What was I doing? That girl is the enemy, a dangerous assassin. She should be killed. _The beeping of the coffee pot startled me out of my thoughts. I poured it into two cups and walked towards the living room.

I sat down on the coffee table and watched her. She was shifting slightly, small whimpers coming out of her mouth. She muttered something in Russian.

Alarmed, I reached over and grabbed her shoulder. Her eyes flew open and she grabbed my wrist, nearly breaking it.

When she saw who it was she let go, breathing heavily. "Sorry," she said.

I shook my wrist. "Damn, you have a grip!"

She sat up slowly, looking around. She rubbed her eyes. I handed her the coffee and she took it gratefully. "Thanks, I can't go mornings without coffee."

I smiled. "Neither can I."

She started to take a sip, then paused, her eyes narrowing. "How do I know you didn't drug this?"

I shrugged. "You don't. But I can promise you I didn't."

Taking a small sip, her eyes watched me. Then her face brightened. "This is good. What's in it?"

"Lots and lots of vanilla creamer. And a hint of sugar."

She continued taking small sips, as not to burn her tongue. "Thanks."

I set my cup down on the glass table, staring at her. "What happens now?" I asked thoughtfully.

Natasha took another sip, then sighed. "I really should kill you . . ." Her voice trailed off.

"And I should kill you. We're enemies. We should be planning attacks, not drinking coffee together."

Hurt flashes across her eyes, but is quickly replaced by something else. Is it fear? "I don't want to leave," she said quietly.

My heart leapt in my chest. "I don't want to either."

I look at the girl in front of me. She's tired, sleepy, but beautiful. Amazing. _She's stunning. _

A banging on the door interrupts our gaze. Groaning slightly, I motion for her to stay. She complies, and sips her coffee while I answer the door.

My jaw drops when I see who it is. "Culson?"

I stepped back quickly as my handler rushed in. I hurried after him, but the damage was done; he had seen Natasha.

He turned and glared at me. "Barton! I send you on a mission to kill someone, and I find her in your house!"

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Well . . ."

Before I could finish, he held up a hand. "Stop." Putting a finger to his ear, he spoke. "I need backup. Barton's been compromised."

My eyes widened and I pushed him out of the way. Natasha was already halfway towards the back door. I grabbed her hand and she struggled. "Let me go!"

I didn't. "No." My eyes met hers. "I'm not going to let them hurt you."

She bit her lip, but didn't answer.

I turned back and looked at Cuslon, who was staring at our exchange with wide eyes. "Culson," I growled. "Call off the backup."

Suddenly the door burst open, and dozens of SHIELD operatives broke in the door. I shielded Natasha, pulling her behind me.

All of their guns clicked off safety as they pointed at Natasha and I.

No one spoke. Everyone was silent.

I could feel Natasha shaking slightly behind me and I fought the urge to hold her in my arms. I locked eyes with Culson. "Call them off," I growled.

He hesitated. "Just give us Romanoff, and I'll clear you."

"No." My voice was firm.

I felt Natasha try and pull away. "Stay," I whispered.

Culson cleared his throat. "Barton. Give us the girl."

"I'm not going to give her up."

It was a stare down. Neither side refused to budge. Neither side gave up.

I knew they could easily just shoot; I also knew Culson wouldn't do that.

I felt her soft hand on my shoulder. I turned and looked at her. "Clint," she said softly. "I'll go with them."

My eyes narrowed. "They'll kill you."

Her eyes looked sad. "They'll kill you if I don't."

Before I could react, she stepped around me, her hands up. "Take me," she said, her voice echoing throughout the small room.

I watched in shock as two agents moved forward to put handcuffs on her. Then it happened.

She leapt over them and out of the door before anyone could react. There were a few gunshots and I ran towards her, but she was gone. Culson held me back. "Barton, you are in so much trouble."

I struggled. "You shot her," I screamed. "You-"

Culson jabbed something into my shoulder and the last thing I saw was his sympathetic face before everything went black.

* * *

My head was burning. Something was holding my hands down. I cracked my eyes open.

I was in the SHIELD infirmary. Culson was sitting in a chair nearby, watching me. I saw Fury leaning against the wall, and Agent Hill sitting on another chair next to him.

I groaned. "What happened?"

Fury pushed himself off the wall. "Agent Culson had to subdue you."

_Natasha. _I struggled against the bonds holding my wrists. "What did you do to her?" I growled.

Fury only shook his head. "What did she do to you? You are our top agent. What happened?"

I just shook my head. "What did you do to Natasha?"

His eyebrows shot up. "Natasha?"

I met his glare. "What happened to her?"

Fury looked away. "Thanks to you, she got away."

Relief washed over me. I looked at Culson. "I'm not going to kill you. Can you untie me now?"

Fury nodded at Agent Hill. She leaned open and opened my wounds. I rubbed my wrists. Culson left the room with Agent Hill, leaving me alone with the director.

I eyed him warily as he took Culson's now empty seat. "Barton, I need you to listen carefully."

I rolled my eyes. "Here for a pep talk?"

"I fell in love once."

I froze. "What?"

He sighed. "I'm only going to say this once, so listen up, soldier."

I nodded.

"I fell in love with a girl. She was beautiful and charming. There was only one thing separating us; she was from the opposite side, the enemy." Fury paused. "I thought we loved each other. Then she betrayed me. It cost me an eye." He stopped, thinking. "She may be charming and beautiful to you, but she is the enemy. Don't trust her." He turned and left, leaving me to my thoughts.

I rubbed my wrists again as Fury's words echoed through my mind.

* * *

I stepped out of the taxi cab and walked up the stone pathway. I pulled the keys from my pocket and unlocked the door, stepping in carefully.

I went straight to my room and grabbed my bag. I checked; it had everything in it. Culson must have dropped it off. I shook my head and pulled it over my shoulder.

Then I opened the dresser drawers, pulling out a box. I opened it, revealing all types of money from around the world. I pulled out at least three thousand dollars in both Russian and American money.

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and tapped a few buttons. After a few rings, a man's voice answered. "Hello?"

I put the money into my bag and hoisted it onto my shoulder. "Hanson? I'm calling in a favor."

* * *

I winced as the burning hot sun hit my eyes. "You had to come here, Nat?" I muttered.

The pilot waited impatiently. I glanced at my cell phone. According the tracking device I placed on Natasha, she was in the house in front of me.

I stepped confidently onto the porch and knocked. When there was no answer, I tried the knob. To my surprise, it was open.

I walked into the house. It was very modern, with a wide floor plan and large windows. I smirked as I saw her bag on the floor, but my smile faded when I saw the droplets of blood. "Nat?" I called.

A soft cry reached my ears, and I ran towards the sound. When I reached the door I knocked. "Come in," she said softly.

I opened the door and was shocked.

She was sitting at the edge of the bathtub, wiping her wounds. She had on a black tank top that was pulled halfway up and short, black sweatpants. Her side was bleeding horribly.

I took strides towards her and knelt to my knees, taking the cloth from her. "Nat," I said, my eyes widening at her state. "What happened to you?"

She let out a hallow laugh. "Looks like one of your men can actually shoot."

A wave of guilt washed over me, but I shook it off. I needed to focus on Natasha. "Where does it hurt?"

She looked away, unable to meet my eyes. I took my other hand and gently pressed it to her cheek, then retreated. "You're burning up!"

She didn't answer, so I knew I had to take drastic measures. Placing one hand underneath her legs and the other behind her back, I scooped her up in my arms. She cried; from protest or the pain, I wasn't sure. "Clint! Put me down!"

I ignored her as I carried her to the airplane. The pilot gave me a confused look, but turned to the controls. "Barton, where to?"

"SHEILD helicarrier. This girl needs medical attention."

Natasha protested. "You can't take me there! They'll kill you!"

I set her gently on the single bed in the corner. "Rest. I won't let them hurt you."

She started to argue, but the moment her head hit the pillow, she was out. I nodded in satisfaction and sat in the co pilot's seat. Adjusting a few buttons, I placed a call through my headset. After a few moments, Culson came on the line. "Clint? Is that you?"

"Sure is."

"Where is hell are you?"

I chuckled slightly as I glanced back at the sleeping girl. "Africa. And I've got a passenger."

There was a moment of silence. "Please tell me that's not Widow, because Director Fury is going to have a-"

"See you in a couple hours. Barton out." He disconnected the com link and looked at the pilot. "Are we clear for takeoff?"

"Yes."

I glanced over at Natasha as the engine rumbled, bringing them closer to the sky. "Hold on," I muttered. "I'm getting you help."

* * *

The pilot set us down on the bridge and I nodded in thanks. I walked over to the sleeping girl and smiled a little. She was still out.

I scoped her up in my arms, frowning slightly at her side, the white bandages covered in blood. I held her tightly and hoisted my bag over my shoulder. Taking a deep breath, I opened the hangar door. There was no one on the deck, so I took this chance to rush inside, making a beeline for the medical bay.

When I reached there, the doctor raised an eyebrow. "Who's that, Agent Barton?"

I ignore him. "She's bleeding out. Help her."

He took in the sight of the girl, and his eyes widened. "Is that-"

I cut him off. "It doesn't matter who it is, she needs help."

Nodding, he called out. A few nurses came out carrying a stretcher, and I set her gently onto it. Miraculously, she was still asleep.

They took her away and I heard the doctor calling out orders. "This girl has a bullet wound. We need to remove it immediately," he said, his voice trailing off.

I sat down in relief on one of the medical chairs, putting my head in my hands.

Black boots came into view, and I put my head up. Director Fury was standing there, an amused look on his face. "What are you doing here, Barton? You don't look injured."

"I brought someone in. She was bleeding out."

"Really? Who?"

Before I could answer, Director Fury turned and walked into the medical bay. Being the director, he wasn't refused.

I followed close behind, not saying a word.

Then he saw Natasha laying on one of the cots, the doctors trying to remove the bullet. He froze. "Barton," he said in a dangerously calm voice. "Is that who I think it is?"

I nodded weakly.

He sighed and turned around, motioning for me to follow him. I did, but was confused. We walked down the hall and my heart dropped when we reached the debriefing room. "Fury, do we have to debrief now?"

The director nodded and sat down, motioning for me to sit too. I complied, and he started speaking. "Barton-"

I stopped him. "Director Fury, please listen to me. Natasha deserves another chance."

"She's killed so many people. She's a dangerous assassin, not to be trifled with."

"And what was I?"

He took a deep breath. "I swear, you're going to cause my early retirement."

My hopes rose. "Is that a yes?"

Fury nodded. "She's on probation."

I shook his head repeatedly. "Thank you, sir. I won't let you down."

To my surprise, he chuckled. "It's not you I'm worried about."

* * *

I watched as her eyes flickered open. "What?" she said softly.

I was by her side in an instant, leaning over her. "How are you feeling?"

She shook her head. "What the hell happened?"

I snorted. "You've been awake for less than thirty seconds, and you're already cursing. I think that's a new record."

She ignored me and glanced around. "What is this place?"

"SHIELD helicarrier."

Natasha's eye widened, but before she could do anything, I spoke. "You're safe. They want you to join."

Her eyebrows rose. "They want **me **to join?"

I shrugged. "Well . . . I convinced them to let you join. Now if you'll accept . . ."

There was a pause. "Why?"

"I need a partner."

She nodded her head, only slightly, but it was enough for me.

* * *

Four years later, as I stood at the altar, I looked at my fiancé. She is at her most beautiful. Suddenly, I tune back into what the priest is saying. "-and do you, Clint Barton, take this woman to be your wife?"

I nod. "I do."

The priest looks at Natasha. "And do you, Natasha Romanoff, take this man to be your husband?"

She smiles up at me. "I do."

"I know pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

I lean in. "Love you," I say softly.

"I love you too," my wife says as our lips meet.


	17. Trust

_The first thing I noticed was my head was throbbing. Badly. _

_ The second thing I noticed was that my hands were bound in my lap, and I could feel my ankles bound too._

_ The third thing I noticed . . . well, let's just say I was shocked out of my mind._

I blinked once. Then twice. My vision cleared, but my memory was a little foggy. I looked around. I was on an unfamiliar armchair, in an unfamiliar . . . cottage, but the looks of it.

Suddenly, a door opened from behind me. I bent my head down again, and pretended to be asleep.

There was the rustle of boots by the door, then I heard footsteps. They walked right past me, to my relief, and I could hear the sound of a coffee pot starting.

I felt my bounds and tried to get out of them, but whoever had tied them was pretty good. I bit my lip. _No one has ever been able to catch me before._

I froze again when I heard footsteps. There was a slight pause, then a man chuckled. "Widow, I know you're awake. You can't fool me."

My eyes flew open, and they landed on the person before me.

He was about 6'1, with short cut, brown hair. His eyes were bluish, with hints of gray. He eyed me, then took a sip of his coffee.

I glared at him. "Who are you," I demanded, "And why have you brought me here? How were you able to capture me so easily?"

A smile spread across his face, irritating me. "Don't you remember last night?" When I shook my head, he let out a laugh, then motioned to his outfit. "Does this look familiar?"

I took it in. He was wearing a sleeveless, black shirt, which looked like armor. The SHIELD label was on the front, turning my blood cold.

I glanced at him, and for the first time since I was ten years old, fear flashed though me. "You're Hawkeye," I whispered.

He nodded. "Now do you remember?"

Our eyes met, and it came flashing back to me.

_It was supposed to be an easy mission. Get into the party, kill Havston Walters, get out without being seen. As I slipped on my strapless, short, green dress, I went over my weapons. Knife in boot: check. Guns hidden in dress: check. _

_ When I reached the club, I immediately noticed my target. I made my way towards him, but was interrupted by a voice from me. "Is a young lady like you alone on this fine night?"_

_ Turning, I saw a man a few years older than myself. Placing a fake smile on my face, I responded. "And a young man like you must have a lady, am I wrong?"_

_ He handed me a glass, which I took. "Touché." He raised the glass to his lips and I mimicked him._

_ Suddenly, I felt dizzy. The glass dropped as I leaned my weight against the counter, only to find the man looking at me. He leaned forward. "Hello, Widow," he whispered in my ear. _

_ Everything went black._

I looked up at the man, realization flashing through me. "You drugged my drink."

He nodded. "Honestly, after all I've heard about you, I thought it would be harder."

My first emotion; anger. My second; I was impressed. "Why did you drug me?"

"I was sent to kill you."

He said those words so calmly that I didn't react for a second. Then, it hit me. "If you were sent to kill me, why aren't I dead?"

Hawkeye sighed. "I had the arrow aimed, but . . . I couldn't."

I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Hawkeye? The man who never misses? He missed?"

He slammed his fist down on the table. "I didn't miss," he nearly shouted.

I smiled, knowing I had hit a nerve. "Why didn't you kill me? The famous Hawkeye didn't kill. This should be a good story."

He glared at me. "I could kill you right here and now, and no one would know better."

I shrugged, trying to hide my fear. "Then do it. I'll be dead, you'll get money, and-"

"I'm not doing this for money."

I stopped, shocked. "Then what for?"

"Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow, killer of hundreds. Two months ago, you killed seven SHIELD agents while they were trying to protect your target."

It vaguely struck a memory, but I brushed it off. "And you're here . . ."

"SHIELD has been tracking you ever since. About a week ago, they pinpointed your location. They sent me to end you."

"Again, why aren't I dead?"

"I saw something in you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Something flashed across his eyes. "I was like you. Then SHIELD recruited me." He cleared his throat nervously. "I want you to come with me."

Looking back on it, I probably shouldn't have done what I did.

"ARE YOU INSANE? WHAT KIND OF A STUPID-"

I was cut off by his hand over my mouth. "Okay, I didn't think you'd react that way."

I wanted to get his hand off of me, so I did the most logical thing; I licked his hand.

He immediately retreated his hand, wiping it on his black jeans. "Really? You had to do that?"

I calmed down a little. "Why do you want me to go with you?"

"When I had that arrow aimed at your face, I noticed something. You carried yourself with confidence, poise even, but something about you struck me. You were scared."

"The Black Widow doesn't get scared."

"I bet ten bucks Natasha Romanoff does."

That got me quiet.

Hawkeye took a deep breath. "Widow, I want you to come with me. You can have a fresh start, live a new life. You can work for the good guys."

"Why should I work for them?"

In a much quieter tone, he spoke. "We know you were planning to defect anyway."

That shocked me, but I tried to keep my face blank. "Where did you get this information? Cause its wrong."

"I've been watching you."

"So now you know me?"

"Yes."

"No one knows me."

"I do."

"Why are you still here? Why the heck am I still alive?"

"Think about my offer. Otherwise . . . I have my orders."

Those words sent chills down my spine. "You'd kill a nineteen year old girl?"

His eyes met mind, and they were filled with shock. "You're nineteen? I was told you were at least twenty five!"

"Where does SHIELD get their Intel, a dumpster?"

He ignored me. _No surprise there. _Getting up, he went to the kitchen. Pulling two mugs from the cabinets, he filled them with coffee. Without turning around, he called out. "Black, or do you want sugar?"

"Sugar."

He came back, and handed me my cup. I looked at my arms, then back at him. He sighed. "Hang on a second." He paused. "Promise you won't run away?"

I fake sighed, then held up both my hands. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Hawkeye smirked. "That can be arranged." I frowned as he drew out a knife. I flinched as he got closer, and he paused. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're just a kid."

"Just a kid? Do you know how many people this 'kid' has killed?"

He just laughed. "Believe me. I know."

The SHIELD agent slipped the knife through my bonds, letting them fall to the floor. Rubbing my wrist, I accepted the coffee and brought it to my lips. It soothed my throat, and I sighed. For the first time in what felt like weeks, I felt relaxed. "Thanks."

"It's just coffee."

I let a smile appear on my face. "It's comforting."

Our eyes met once again, and something sparked though me. This man interested me. "Is your hair naturally that color?"

The question caught me off guard. "What?"

He looked away, and I could see his face turning red. "Er . . .never mind."

"It's alright." I bit my lip. "It's naturally red. Now it's my turn. How old are you?"

Without looking back, he responded. "Twenty."

"You're not that much older than me, and you're in SHIELD."

"I joined when I was eighteen, the youngest ever."

"Why did you join?"

"I did some things I regret. I needed a way out, and I found it." Hawkeye looked at me. "I was like you," he said softly.

I could feel any distrust I had against this guy crumbling. "No one's like me."

"I was. And I hated it. Natasha, come with me."

I took a deep breath, inwardly cursing myself. "Fine. On one condition."

"Yeah?"

"What's your real name?"

He smiled. "Call me Clint."

"Clint." I smiled. The word rolled off my tongue, leaving a sense of comfort. "One more thing."

"Yea?"

"Can you untie my ankles now?"


	18. Whole

_I was born of fire, raised by hurricanes. At first I thought I was born without emotions, that I was a . . . different kind of person. I didn't exactly feel._

_ Then he walked into my life._

_ To be precise, he aimed an arrow at my head and gave me a choice; join him, or die. Obviously I chose the first option._

_ He annoyed me to no end. His brown hair, gray-blue eyes . . . it drove me insane! But something about him made me trust him. At least, want to trust him. _

_ He wormed his way into my heart, then my soul. He comforted me when I was upset, took care of me when I was sick, stood up for me when I was abandoned, even tried to bake cookies for me; tried being the key word. He nearly burned down the helicarrier._

_ Still, he managed to do something no one has ever done, and no one else will likely do again; he healed me._

_ Then he had to go and die._

* * *

I shuffled my feet along the corridor, ignoring the sympathetic glances from the workers. I continued my path till I reached a room. I opened it and finally looked up.

Tears were fought to remain at bay as I gazed around his room. All his stuff was still there, but I knew SHIELD would have to remove it eventually. I hoped that Fury would at least wait a little, but I knew it was futile.

I rang my fingers along the shelves and photos. I stopped at one, a slight smile coming over my face.

It was of me, one of the few times I acted like myself. I was giving him my signature glare, all sweaty from sparing. I don't know why he kept it.

Footsteps echoed along the hall and a dark shadow flickered over me. Without turning around, I spoke. "Fury." My tone was collected, calm.

The director cleared his throat. "Agent Romanoff."

"What do you want?"

There was a slight pause, before he spoke again. "Barton's funeral is tomorrow."

An unexpected rush of pain went through me, but I did my best to remain impassive. "Yes, sir."

"Agent Romanoff, I apolo-"

I whirled around, glaring at my boss. "Don't," I hissed. "Don't apologize. He knew the risks. We all did."

Fury leaned against the wall, one hand near his gun. "That doesn't make the hurt any easier."

"I'm not hurt."

His intact eyebrow raised. "Oh? Then why are you shaking?"

I just shook my head and pushed passed him, taking the steps to my room. Every agent either gave me another sad look, or quickly moved out of the way. I nearly snorted when one of the newer and younger agents nearly went himself before running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

My feet carried me not to my room, but to the gym. I passed Clint and I's sparing place; we had staked that out the moment I stepped foot in this place, and only the two of us had ever gone on those mats.

I held back a laugh when I remembered the first time we spared.

_He grunted, lying face down on the mat. My heal was digging right between his shoulder blades, and he made an unnatural sound as I pressed harder._

_ "Tasha," he said. "Ple-"_

_ I dug harder. "__**Don't **__call me Tasha."_

_ I could almost hear the laughter in-between the groans, so I did the only thing I could think to make him shut up; I removed my foot._

_ He flipped over immediately, staring wide eyed. "Why . . . what . . . how are you that strong?"_

_ I shrugged, holding out a hand. "Just am. Why are you so good with that bow of yours?"_

_ "Don't know." He reached up and grabbed my head. Before I could react he hand me down on the ground, pinning me with his legs on either side, the wind knocked out of me._

_ A sly grin came over his face as a frown came on mine. "No fair," I whined. "You cheated!"_

_ His face came closer to mine. "You dug your heal into my back, probably causing a bruise that's going to be very hard to get rid of. You owe me."_

_ I struggled, but no matter how good I was, he was strong. "Do you take steroids or somethin'?"_

_ He shook his head, brown hair moving slightly. "Nope. Just good old fashioned exercise."_

"Are you okay?"

This voice shook me out of my thoughts and I whirled around, shooting a knife at the person. Luckily tears had made me miss, or Cuslon would have been decapitated. I sighed in relief and glared at the man. "Don't sneak up on me! You could have been killed!"

He shrugged. "I'm used to it, remember?"

I groaned and turned away from him. "Leave me alone."

"Natasha, I-"

My shoulders shook. "You're just like Fury, thinking you can understand me. You can't! You can't . . ."

I felt a hand on my shoulder. "I know I can't, and I'm sure Fury can't. We lost a partner, an agent; you lost a husband."

I lurched forward suddenly, running out of the room. When I was far enough away I slid to the floor against the wall, gasping for breath. _Please god, let this be a dream. I've never asked you for anything. Please . . . _

Faint sobs came from me as I cried into my arms, trying to get rid of the pain.

It didn't work. He was gone, and there was nothing I could do about it.

* * *

"Clint Barton was a brave man, loved by all. He fought and lost his life for our country. He . . ."

The pastor's words reached my faintly over the crowds of people. I fought tears as I leaned against the tree trunk in the back, scanning the crowd. My fist clenched. _None of them deserve to be here. They didn't know him like I did. _

I slid to the ground, unable to keep the tears at bay. They slipped down my face and fell to the grass, mixing in with the dew and rain.

Suddenly black shoes appeared before me. I only shook my head, thinking it was Fury. "Go away," I muttered.

"Sorry, I can't do that. I might just need to see my wife."

My head flew up and my eyes were wide. Clint was standing there, an amused expression on his face.

I launched myself at him, wrapping my hands around his neck. His hands found my waist as I placed kisses all over his face; jaw, cheek, forehead, and finally, lips.

I drew away from him, moving my hands to the sides of his face. "How are you alive?"

He didn't move, only drew his face closer to mine, his hands gripping my waist even tighter. "I'm missing in action."

Something inside me broke. "They told me you were killed, not missing!"

"It's been a few weeks. But now I have something to do."

I tried to frown, but found that I couldn't. "What do you have to-"

He kissed me with passion. I gladly kissed back.

I was whole again.


	19. One Year Since

She was mad.

Forget that, she was furious.

As she stepped down the platform and entered the main building, her mouth was in a firm line, her lips pursed. Her red hair now lay in waves halfway down her back, instead of her former hair due. To be honest? She preferred it better.

Every agent who she passed nearly bolted out of the way; even those who had never seen her before. She was downright scary, especially when she was about to see the one person she's avoided. To the common observer, she looked calm and collected. On the inside, she was freaking out.

Her fists clenched. Why had Fury asked her to come in? She hadn't seen anyone for a year. Why now? Why with the other Avengers?

She paused slightly before the door, nerves in her stomach. She hadn't seen anyone. The assassin had thrown herself into her work for the past year, not keeping contact. The door slid silently open and she stepped in, the picture of calm.

Fury looked up from his position at the monitors. "Agent Romanoff."

She nodded politely. "Fury."

Natasha looked around at the other members at the table. Tony was sitting at the far end, tapping at something on a tablet, wearing his fancy sunglasses. Bruce was twiddling his thumbs nervously, Steve was looking blankly at the table, and Thor was chatting with an agent.

Then she saw him.

He hadn't changed much, like her. He still had that cocky grin, that endlessly annoying smile that drove her to the point she wanted to kill him. His brown eyes stared into hers, and she nearly stopped breathing.

Breaking their gaze, she took a seat next to the Captain, nodding slightly at him. There was an awkward moment of silence as Fury gathered some papers, then approached the table. "We have a new threat."

Tony slipped his sunglasses off. "Isn't there always a new threat?"

Fury glared at him. "A bigger one."

Steve tapped his fingers on the table. "Why did you call us here? To beat up some bad guy? Last time I checked, the team never worked out." Natasha winced, surprised at the level of bitterness in the super soldier's voice.

The director sighed, the slid the folder to the middle of the table. "Look at this."

Natasha leaned forward and grabbed for it, but her hands collided with another. She looked into his eyes again, then quickly retreated her hand. "Sorry," she muttered quietly.

Tony looked curiously at the two. "What happened to you guys?"

Natasha didn't answer; Clint didn't either. Fury just shook his head. "Focus on the file."

Bruce grabbed for it this time and raised an eyebrow at the contents. "A nuclear bomb?"

That got the attention of everyone at the table. "A nuke?" The billionaire said, unbelieving. "Please tell me it hasn't exploded yet."

Fury shook his head. "Not yet. It would normally be a case I give my two best agents," he shot a look at Clint and Natasha, "But they're acting like children, so I called you all in."

Natasha looked down. Tony cleared his throat. "What the hell happened to you two?"

Natasha glared at him and stood up. "None of your damn business, Stark." She turned and left the room, leaving her stunned ex-teammates behind.

* * *

Clint hadn't been expecting this. He had been on a mission, same as always, when Fury had contacted him about coming back to the Avengers.

At first Clint had be adamantly against it, but Fury had convinced him to do it for Culson. That always got him.

When _she _walked in the room, he nearly had a heart attack, glaring daggers at Fury. Fury had told him she wasn't going to be there. The man offered no apology, and had gotten straight down to business.

When Natasha stormed out of the room, Fury turned and looked at Clint. "Barton, go get her."

I leaned back in my chair, placing my hands behind my head. "No thank you."

"Barton . . ."

I shook my head. "Nope. Send Bruce or somethin'"

All eyes swiveled to the doctor, who shook his head. "Do you really want the other guy to come out?"

Everyone shook their heads at the same time and Fury sighed. "I guess this mission will go without her. Now, can you . . ."

Clint tuned out as he thought of Natasha. _When had things gone so wrong? Oh yeah. When I told her I loved her . . ._

* * *

_Clint stepped out onto the balcony, pausing slightly when he noticed he wasn't alone. She was sitting at the edge of the building, her red hair flowing in the wind._

_ She didn't seem to take notice of him until he sat down next to her, staring at the city lights. "So," he said. "Why are you here so late?"_

_ Instead of answering, she shook her head. "Have you ever felt like you didn't belong? Like there was no one left in the world?"_

_ He let out a hallow laugh. "Every single day."_

_ Then he noticed she was close to crying. His brow furrowed and he placed an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She responded and laid her head against his chest. "That's how I feel. I don't belong with the Avengers . . . I'm an assassin, not a superhero."_

_ He brought one finger up and placed it underneath her chin, guiding it so she faced him. "Hey," he said softly. "You belong with us."_

_ She shook her head. "You belong with them. I'm just an ex-Russian, the enemy."_

_ He frowned. Something was off about her . . . "What happened to make you think that?"_

_ "Nothing." Her answer was short and to the point, though he would expect nothing less._

_ He pulled her closer, his hand holding her waist tighter. "Don't ever think bad things about yourself. You're perfect, Tasha."_

_ Her blue eyes searched his, and he suddenly became aware of how close they were. "How do you fit in," she whispered, "when you're just as different as the rest of them?"_

_ His breath mixed with hers. "You know why?" he whispered. "I have an anchor that's pulling me down to the ground and making me see sense, keeping me from going crazy. This person is crazy as hell, but she's the best." He winked. "I'll give you three guesses who."_

_ She brought her arm up and punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Idiot," she whispered, before crashing her lips to his._

_ He kissed back, holding her even tighter in his arms. After a few moments she pulled back, but he noticed her eyes were filled with fear. "I . . . I . . ." she pulled away from him._

_ Clint frowned. "Tasha . . ."_

_ "Don't call me that." Her voice was harsh as she stood up and started to walk towards the building._

_ "I love you."_

_ Those words stopped her in her tracks, but she shook her head. "Love is for children." She nearly ran into the building._

_ The next morning he found a note lying beside his bed. He picked it up with trembling hands and it crumpled, his fists clenched. _

* * *

"So we need you to go there. Any questions?"

"I got one," the haughty voice of Tony Stark said. "We're going to die without Widow."

Clint stiffened, but Fury spoke. "Agent Romanoff clearly doesn't want to go on this mission. Any other questions?"

Bruce raised his hand. "Tony's right, for once. We need Natasha." The rest of the Avenger's murmured their agreement.

Fury shook his head. "Unless Barton and Romanoff make up, she apparently isn't going anywhere."

Clint sighed and stood up, the chair scraping on the floor. "I'll go get her," he muttered.

* * *

He found her in her room, sitting on the twin bed and staring against the wall. When he entered she stiffened. "Go away," she muttered.

Clint walked towards her. "I can't. Tony- along with the rest of the team- said that we'd die without you."

"Damn right."

The archer sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder, but immediately retracted it. "You're stiff."

When Natasha spoke, her voice was dripping with sarcasm. "No, really? This situation is totally calming!"

He sighed and sat next to her, ignoring her glares. "We need to talk."

"No."

Clint was getting angry. "You ran away from me that night after I told you I loved you. Do you know how hard that was for me? And to have you not love me back?"

She looked away from him. "Who said I didn't love you back?"

He paused in the middle of saying a snarky comment. "What?" he asked, breathless.

She swallowed. "I said, 'who said-"

"I heard you. Why did you run away?"

"I didn't deserve you," she said quietly, twisting her hands in her lap.

Clint reached over and placed his hand over hers. "If anything, I don't deserve you."

Natasha snorted. "Yeah right."

"It's true. You're amazing, beautiful, smart, funny, beautiful, kicks butt, and did I mention beautiful?"

He could almost feel the tension loosening. "And you're handsome, strong and amazing. I'm none of those things."

Clint nodded. "Tasha, you're _perfect. _And I-" he paused for a moment. "I love you."

There was a moment of silence before she turned her head and looked at him, the hint of a smile on her face. "Love you too."


	20. Fearless

_I'm stuck in your head_

_I'm back from the dead_

_Got you running scared_

_I'm fearless_

My eyes flew open and I shot up, panicky and sweating like crazy. Not a second later I threw the covers off and ran out the door and down the hallway, ignoring the searing pain in my side.

I passed many doors, but my destination was the one at the end of the hall. My footsteps echoed on the wood floor and I reached her room, grasping the metal handle and throwing the door open.

_I'm calling you out_

_I'm taking you down_

_Don't you come around_

_I'm fearless_

She was sound asleep as I rushed to her side, my breathing uneven. It was only when I was right next to her when her green eyes flew open and she gasped. "Clint? What's going on?"

I only stared at her. "You died," I muttered. "I had a nightmare… you died. You left me."

Her eyes widened as she brought a hand to my cheek, rubbing it softly with her thumb. "I'm right here, Clint," she said quietly. "I'm not leaving you."

_I got the upper hand now_

_And you losing ground_

_You never had to fight back_

_Never lost a round_

I ducked as she swung at me, the hint of a smile on her lips. "Come on," she demanded. "Fight harder!"

I grunted and threw a punch. She narrowly dodged it, flipping around and landing to my right. An echoing laugh came through the gym and I fought the urge to smile. It was musical.

Then the intercom crackled. "Agent Barton, Romanoff. Report to the mission room."

Breathing heavily, I glanced over at my partner. She had barely broken a sweat.

Smiling sweetly, she nearly bounced out of the room. "See ya later!"

_You see the gloves_

_Are coming off_

_Tell me when you've had enough_

_Yeah_

A searing scream reached my ears and I threw the person attacking me away, all while rushing to my partner's side.

She was on the ground, her uniform now stained the same color as her hair. I knelt beside her. "Tasha? Don't leave me!"

Natasha gasped, then winced. "You… need to… get out of here! Save yourself!"

I scooped her up in my arms, ignoring her cries of protest. "Never," I growled.

_Ready for a showdown_

_And we're face to face_

_I think I'll rearrange_

_It put you into place_

_You don't get the best of me_

_Check it you're afraid of me_

She let out a small gasp of surprise to find me by her beside, and it was then I noticed fear in her eyes. I reached out and shook her shoulders. "Tasha! It's me!"

Her breathing slowly turned even as she took another look at me. "Clint," she gasped. "You… what happened to your blue eyes?"

My mind went from confusion to guilt. _Crud. The other me. _Gentler this time, I placed my hand on her cheek. "It's me, Tasha. Me, not Loki's pawn."

Guilt swarmed me. _I'm giving her nightmares._

_I'm stuck in your head_

_I'm back from the dead_

_Got you running scared_

_I'm fearless_

Natasha looked at me, her expression blank. "Who are you?" she demanded.

Even as my heart sank to my boots, I desperately grabbed her shoulders. "What… it's me! Your partner!"

Her expression turned haughty as she pushed me away. "I don't have a partner," she said coldly. "I'm the Black Widow."

"Tasha…"

She snarled. "Don't call me that! Who are you?"

I looked her straight in the eye. "I don't care if you don't remember me. I'll never forget you."

_I'm calling you out_

_I'm taking you down_

_But don't you come around_

_I'm fearless_

_I'm fearless_

_I'm fearless_

She ran in front of me, faster than I had ever seen her. Desperately I followed, but _damn _she was fast.

I skidded to a halt when we reached a door, but she didn't. She ran through it and I screamed. "Tasha, no!"

It was too late. She was gone.

_You used to make my heart pound_

_Just the thought of you_

_But now you're in the background_

_Watcha gonna do?_

I desperately tried to scream as I shot an arrow at her. Luckily she dodged it and I jumped down to the platform.

I could see fear mirrored in her eyes, but the 'other me' didn't care. He was out for blood, but I was still fighting. Hell if I was going to let myself kill her.

_Sound off if you hear this_

_We're feeling fearless_

_We're feeling fearless_

She buried her head into my chest as I wrapped my arms around her, rubbing circles on her back. "Quiet," I said. "Everything's okay. I'm fine."

She looked up at me, and I could see tears in her eyes. "I thought you were dead. They told me… you weren't coming back."

I held her tighter. "Don't worry. Nothing can keep me from you."

Natasha brought her head to my chest again and I brought my hand up, stroking her hair. "Don't make promises you can't keep." Her voice was muffled.

I pulled her away from me. "I will never," I growled. "ever leave you. Don't forget that."

_I'm stuck in your head_

_I'm back from the dead_

_Got you running scared_

_I'm fearless_

She gulped and I could faintly see her breaths coming slower. "Clint," she said, her voice faint. "I-" she gasped. "You promised-"

I tried to put pressure to her hand, but the pain in my side and the blood coming out of it was causing me to be weak. "Tasha, I'm fine. Go. Save yourself."

She shook her head and brushed her delicate fingers against my forehead. "I won't leave you. I won't."

Before I faded into the darkness, I heard a whisper among the screams.

_"I love you."_

_I'm calling you out_

_I'm taking you down_

_But don't you come around_

_I'm fearless_

I cursed as my fist slammed against the table, cracking the glass. To Fury's credit he didn't flinch, but I was so full of anger he didn't notice. "Where is she?" I growled, not willing to take no for an answer.

In the entire ten years I've been with SHIELD, I've never seen Fury looked sympathetic. "Agent Barton-"

My vision turned red and I snarled. "How could you let her go alone? You knew she wasn't ready! Hell, she had a broken rib!"

He shook his head. "She wanted to go. I couldn't stop her."

My teeth clenched and I stormed away from the room, ignoring Fury's voice. _She's dead._

_I'm stuck in your head_

_I'm back from the dead_

_(I'm fearless)_

_Got you running scared _

_I'm fearless_

Her funeral was quiet. Only a few people showed, which wasn't surprising. Natasha hadn't known very many people, didn't make time for it. Our job took up most of her life.

Fury stood next to the white coffin, his head bowed. "Natasha Romanoff was a brave soul. She risked her life every day for the sake of others…"

I turned away, unable to look anymore. My head was spinning. _She promised she'd never leave. She promised…_

_I'm calling you out_

_I'm taking you down_

_But don't you come around_

_I'm fearless_

_I'm fearless_


	21. Age Is But A Number

_"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."_

_-Lao Tzu_

The rain poured down into his hair and pelting his clothes, but he didn't care. His only focus was the shivering, seemingly helpless girl in front of him.

In what seemed like a second he was at her side, wrapping his arms around her. She responded immediately, burrowing her head into his chest and wrapping her arms around his thick black jacket, her hands feeling for warmth.

Her touch sent a spark of relief to him and he held her tighter. "Tasha," he said quietly. "Don't. Don't ever do that again."

The girl would have snorted had she been able to stop the tears coming through her eyes; she tried to, of course, because tears were a sign of weakness. "Clint…" her voice trailed off as she looked up, seeing the expression on his face.

"Natasha Romanoff, I need you to promise me something." His grip tightened on her as if he would never let her go. He didn't want to, of course, but she would punch him if he said something that sappy. "You can't ever leave me. Ever."

He felt breath of hot air through his shirt, and it suddenly struck him how tall she had gotten. She shorter than him, but still. "I can't make promises that I can't keep. Neither should you."

His eyebrows raised. "Yeah? Well here's a promise that I'm never going to break." He pulled her away from his chest and tightly gripped her arms, forcing her green eyes to narrow slightly. "I'm never going to leave you. No matter how hard things get, no matter how much this job makes me suicidal, I'm never going to leave you." He paused, taking in her shocked expression. "Now your turn."

The hint of a smile appeared on her lips, causing something resembling joy to come to Clint. "Clint Barton," she scolded. "What did I just say?"

"Promise me, Tasha. Promise me."

"I promise."

Those words brought hope to him, and he pulled her back into his arms, not caring that they were both soaked to the bone. She didn't care either, just hugged him tighter.

* * *

_"Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies."_

_-Aristotle_

She elbowed him in the ribs and he coiled back, faking pain. "Tasha! How could you?"

Natasha raised her eyebrows at him, then turned back to the video game on the flat screen TV. Her score displayed at least three hundred points more than her partner, which had caused him to sputter and accuse her of cheating.

He threw the remote on the ground and it hit to wood with a thump. Clint leaned back on the couch, placing his hands behind his head. Natasha turned and straightened, folding her legs underneath her. For a moment there was silence, something both the assassins strived for.

"How do we afford this stuff?"

The question was so unexpected, so unusual, that Clint didn't have time to respond before Natasha shot another one. "Why are we doing this?"

He stared at her in disbelief. "Uh… Fury decided we were causing too much trouble on the helicarrier and kicked us out, forcing us to find our own place? Do you have memory loss or something?"

She shook her head. "That's not what I meant."

"Than what did you mean?"

The glare she gave him would have sent most men running for the hills, but Clint wasn't your average man. He only flinched a _tiny _bit. "You know what I mean, Barton."

He chuckled. "So know we're on last name basis again? I thought sharing an apartment would help us bond, not the opposite."

Natasha sighed and stood up. "Men," she muttered, before leaving the room and entering the kitchen.

She reached for the packets of hot-chocolate and took them down, pouring them into two plain-white mugs. Grabbing the milk from the fridge, she stuck them in the microwave, pressing a few buttons.

She stood in front of the microwave, waiting. It was a few seconds before she heard the sound of lightly padded footsteps and felt strong arms around her waist, and a sudden weight on her shoulder.

Natasha leaned into Clint and he held her tighter. "Do you know why we do this, Nat?"

She sighed, comforted by his presence. "You tell me."

"We do this because we were alone before each other. Before you, I was alone and stubborn-"

"You're still like that."

Even though she couldn't see him, Natasha knew he was giving her an annoyed look. "Will you let me finish?" She nodded. "I wasn't having any fun with life. My time was consumed by missions. When I rescued you, you opened up a whole new pathway and another reason to live."

She opened her mouth to speak, but just then the beeping of the microwave sounded. Clint pulled away from her and she was struck by the sudden burst of cold. She shivered involuntary, then froze, hoping he hadn't noticed.

By her eyes, he hadn't. Clint reached for the handle and opened the microwave, pulling out two steaming cups of hot chocolate. He handed on to her and leaned against the counter, while Natasha pulled out one of the two chairs and sat down.

"I love you."

Her cup was halfway to her lips when she heard those words, and it caused her to freeze. She swallowed hard. "What?" Her voice was quiet.

A half smile appeared on his face. "I love you."

For a moment, you could have heard a pin drop. Then she relaxed, setting the cup down on the wooden table. "Love you too."

* * *

_"A flower cannot blossom without sunshine, and man cannot live without love."  
-Max Muller_

He spotted her all the way across the room; it wasn't hard, considering she was probably the only person at this party was flaming red hair. As he made his way across the ballroom he noticed the pained expression on her face. Then he noticed who she was talking to.

His fist clenched and he walked faster, his black shoes nearly drilling into the floor at this point. He was a few feet from her when the billionaire she was talking to decided to place his arm around her, pulling her closer to his body. Clint noticed she tried to struggle, but he knew she couldn't do anything without blowing her cover.

He had reached her; bowing slightly to her, he brought his eyes to hers. He could see relief in them as he spoke. "May I have this dance?"

Clint noticed she winced as the man held her tighter. "I'm sorry," he said. "This lady's with me tonight."

Without missing a beat, Clint responded. "I'm sure she can make her own decisions."

Both men turned to Natasha, who pried herself out of the man's grip and turned to Clint. "I would be happy to dance with you, kind sir."

He grasped her hand gently and led her to the dance floor, all while feeling the billionaire glaring daggers into his back. Clint turned her slightly towards him and placed both hands on her hips, while she placed both hands around his neck.

They both swayed lightly to the beat. "Thank you," she said quietly. "He was a pain in the задница."

He made a noise in the back of his throat. "Now Tasha, what has Coulson said about cursing?"

She made to step on his foot but he pinched her side, causing her to stop. "Я тебя ненавижу," she hissed.

"English please."

"I hate you."

He chuckled. "On the contrary, I think you love me."

She frowned. "Stop talking like you're from the eighteenth century. It's giving me a headache."

"Love you too," he almost sang.

She shook her head. "You'll be the death of me."

"Amen."

* * *

_"Can miles truly separate you from friends... If you want to be with someone you love, aren't you already there?"  
-Richard Bach_

She shivered as the warmth of the fire enveloped her; it was normally the opposite, but being alone put everything in the dumps. Goosebumps formed as she stood up from the comfortable couch.

Four days. It had been fours day since she saw him- or anyone, for that matter- later. The moment he disappeared off the grid, she had fought hand and foot to go after him on his mission. It had taken Fury, Agent Hill, _and _twelve agents to subdue her and lock her in her apartment.

Every attempt at escape had been thwarted. Windows were- literally- frozen shut, the doors had four locks on them, and there were two SHIELD agents standing guard outside the door at all times.

She would have tried nonstop to go after him, but being sedated five times wasn't exactly good for your head.

A knock sounded on the door and her head snapped up. A few moments later an insistent locked was heard on the door. "Uh… Tasha? I knocked out the agents at the door… can you open it?"

She flew to the door and looked in the peephole. He was standing there, his expression confused. "Clint!"

He smiled, but it was wary. "My god, there's four locks on this door! What did you do?"

She responded in the smallest voice she could manage. "I tried to go after you?"

Clint sighed, then pulled out something from his backpack. A few moments later there was a slight clicking noise and the door swung open as she stepped back.

He looked tired and worn out, but that didn't stop her from throwing herself into his arms. Clint responded immediately, holding her as tight as he could.

For a few moments, there was peace. They were in each other's arms, one and the same.

* * *

_"Love is a force more formidable than any other. It is invisible - it cannot be seen or measured, yet it is powerful enough to transform you in a moment, and offer you more joy than any material possession could."  
-Barbara de Angelis_

Love is a drug.

As he sat on the edge of her bed, watching her sleep, he thought about how much she meant to him. He would die for her, and she would do the same. If she was killed he would go to heaven and earth to bring down the people who took her from him.

She stirred in her sleep, shivering in the thin sheets. Noticing this, he stood up and went to the closet, pulling out a thick, blood-red blanket. He turned and brought it over, throwing it over her and tucking it in.

As he turned to leave, he felt smooth, delicate hands grasping his wrist. He looked at her, eyebrows raised. Her green eyes stared it his as she sat up. "Stay."

Her words slipped over him and he couldn't help but obey. Lifting up the sheets he slid in beside her, wrapping his calloused hands around her waist and pulling her down next to him. She responded, sinking towards him as he pulled her as close as possible. Their intertwined hands rested on her stomach.

He could tell by her breathing patterns that she fell asleep quickly, but he stayed awake, thinking. Her breathing sooths him, tells him that she's still there. She's not going anywhere, at least for now.

Her touch is light, but it has endless meanings to him. She can be gentle and sweet, but also deadly. Clint takes a deep breath as he watches her sleep, her body fitted perfectly with his.

Love may be a drug, but it is the best kind.

* * *

_"The hours I spend with you I look upon as sort of a perfumed garden, a dim twilight, and a fountain singing to it. You and you alone make me feel that I am alive. Other men it is said have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough."  
-George Edward Moore_

He'll never understand why she does this.

She sits in the garden for hours on end, looking around and writing in that notebook of hers. He has never seen what is inside it, nor will he ever likely too.

Once she caught him staring at her from the windows above. He had held his breath, waiting for the punch, the rush of anger.

It never came.

She had only laughed, waving, then going back to her notebook.

The garden was beautiful, he had give it that, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out why she would want to spend so much time in a place that was so... empty.

One day, he finally got it. Or so he thought.

Clint hesitantly walked down the wooden steps, wincing at the creeks that come with every step. He knows that she's watching him carefully, but he just wants to get it over with.

When he finally steps onto the soil in front of her, she folds her notebook and sets in on the bench next to her, looking at him thoughtfully. "Well?" she says. "Is there something you need?"

"Why do you stay out here?" The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them and he winces, waiting for the fatal blow.

To his surprise she smiled, just like when she caught him before. She looked around, then responded. "I don't know."

He sits down next to her, looking around at the trees and flowers. "I have an idea."

She raises an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"It's pretty. You like pretty things."

An amused smile comes on her face. "Wrong."

"It's... beautiful?"

"Wrong."

"Calming?"

"Nope."

He sighs in exasperation. "Than what is it, then?"

Natasha takes his hand and raises it to the sky. He follows their intertwined hands as she makes an arc. "Follow my hand," she says gently.

He looks.

The garden is lush and beautiful, water dripping from the leaves and running to the ground. Birds fly around and occasionally a chirp is heard. That noise echoes throughout the area. The blades of grass seem sharp, but the ladybugs on them disagree, climbing over them like children on a jungle gym. He feels a drop on his head and glances up at the large tree hanging over the pair of them, providing shade. The sky is a brilliant blue, only interrupted by dashes of white clouds.

He takes a sharp breath. "It's amazing."

"No," she says. "Look around. Do you see any fighting or destruction? Any madness or horrors? This place was created for peace and equality. There are no gunmen or mission here. Just... peace."

He looks at her with a newfound respect. "I never knew you were this deep."

She smiles. "You learn something new every day."

* * *

_"How absurd and delicious it is to be in love with somebody younger than yourself. Everybody should try it."  
-Barbara Pym_

She is fourteen years his junior, yet she has lived more than he ever has.

He knows that she made her first kill when she was no younger than thirteen. While he was joining SHIELD and working for the "good guys", she was being brainwashed and tortured.

He can hear her screams at night. He has nightmares too, but he knows his will never be as bad as hers. When he was sent to kill her, the night he saw her save that little girl from certain death; he knew she was different. He knew she could be saved.

Your past always comes back to haunt you. His comes in the form of his brother. Hers comes in numerous enemies.

Of course, he didn't find out that she still had enemies from Russia after her until Budapest. He had blown up when he found out and she had been stunned. Natasha had never known what it felt like to have someone care for her, to protect her.

Clint swore up and down that she was going to be the death of him. He was in love with her.

Some people said was wrong for a man to love someone over a decade younger; he said age is but a number. Which is true, of course, but still, others said, was he sick?

His answer was no, he was not. If he had a hunch he'd say that she fell in love with him first; he was just the follower.

Age is but a number, yet love stretches across all boundaries.


	22. I Can't Hide Anything

All the arrows hit the target; one, followed by another. He's been at this for hours, the nightmares finally becoming too much for him to handle.

"Can't sleep?"

Her voice is so quiet, so gentle, that he doesn't register that she was even there for a few moments. _Just keep shooting, _he thinks, _and she'll go away. _

"I'm not going away."

_Well damn. _Sometimes he really hated having a partner that could almost read his mind. _Though, _he thought, _with her past and missions, she might have found a way._

Soft footsteps reached his ears, but he didn't turn. Didn't do anything, in fact. Just… waited.

He felt her hot breath on the back of his neck and her nimble arms wrapped around his waist. He felt her presence against his back, seemingly just hugging him. To the average person, one who just happened to be passing by at the moment, it would have looked like a simple gesture between two friends. But they both knew it was more than that.

He turned slightly and she loosens her grip enough for him to turn around. She gently makes him face her and places her hands on his shoulders, her green eyes watching him intently.

The archer wants to deny everything, to claim that everything was fine, to prove it. But he couldn't hide anything from her. They were hidden people, yes, but to each other? Not a chance in hell.

His hands find their way to her waist and he grasps her hips tightly, not sure why he's doing it. Maybe it's a dream, maybe he's sleepwalking.

They don't move, just stand and stare. Then he feels the slightest bit of pressure on his shoulders and her delicate hands move to his neck. From there they continue upwards, finally resting on his cheeks.

He notices that her look is gentler than he'd ever seen it, the mask nearly crumbling.

She sighs. "Clint-"

"What are we doing, Tash?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know."

Silence again. He's always hated silence, but at this moment, shared with the one person he cares about the most, he can't bring himself to care.

When he finally speaks, his voice is almost kindly, easy. "Why are you up?"

"Why are you?" she asks, without skipping a beat.

He chuckles. "Denial."

"Dismissing."

"Refraining."

"I prefer… negation."

He laughs and it makes her smile, something they both haven't seen in a while. "Will I ever win?"

She rubs her thumb over the right side of his face. "As long as I'm your partner, I think not."

His blue eyes meet hers, and his heart seems to stop. His lips part slightly when she gentle brushes her thumb underneath his eye. She notices that his grip on her waist tightens. He nearly growls. "Hate you."

She stops what she's doing and he freezes and takes in a breath. But then she smiles. "Hate you, too."

"Well," he says smoothly. "Have you heard the rumors about us going around Stark tower?"

She has continued rubbing his face gently and theses words cause her to slow, but not pause. "What rumors?"

"You know, the usual. I caught Tony placing a bet on whether we're married or not. Steve put down saying we're dating, and Bruce is insistent that we're just friends. Thor doesn't particularly care."

Something flickers over her face. Is that… amusement? "What do you think?"

He brings her closer to him. "I think," he murmurs, "that you should kiss me right now."

"I thought the gentleman was supposed to make to first move."

He shrugs. "Ah… it's the twenty first century," he says, and proceeds to put his lips to hers.

And… all thoughts fly out of his head. They don't return for a good twenty minutes.

**Shorter than usual, this just flew into my head and refused to budge until I put it down on paper.**


	23. Natasha Romanoff

_"You," he yelled, stomping towards me. "How could you? You messed up!"_

_ I backed away, my pulse picking up. "I'm sorry! It wasn't me-"_

_ An echoing slap came to my ears and the stinging on my face made me fall to the ground. While I was dazed, I heard a door slam. "Sir! The enemies are attacking!"_

I stirred, groaning. Then I felt something cool on my forehead, then a soft whisper. "Shh… you're safe, young one."

_He snarled and glanced at me. "Let's get out of here before they find us."_

_ Then next thing I felt was a jarring kick to my foot, then a searing pain in my stomach. I curled up, trying to make to pain stop._

Faint murmurs. "Why… okay… bed?"

Scuffling. "Is she… enemy…"

_Footsteps echoed and pulled my head closer to my chest, waiting for the certain death to come. It didn't._

_ "Kill her!" a female voice yelled._

_ I heard the click of a gun going off safety, a sound I was very familiar with. But I was usually on the other side of the awaiting pain._

A cough came out of me and the talking stopped. I felt something gently touch my arm, a butterfly's touch. Then it stopped, almost abruptly. "She's waking up!"

My senses were becoming clearer.

_"No," a deeper, male voice ordered._

_ "Why the hell not? She's the Black Widow!"_

_ A small pause. "Not everyone deserves to die, Agent Hill."_

I curled up, trying to make to aching pain in my ribs stop. It didn't, in fact, it made it worse. A small groan escaped my lips and I felt vibrations through the floor… was I on the floor? No, it was too comfortable…

The same deeper voice from my memories spoke. "She's waking up… someone get the doctor!"

_A loud bang. I flinched, waiting for the rush of pain that typically accompanied death, but there was a grunt instead. _

_ "What the… Agent Barton? What are you doing?"_

_ "She doesn't deserve to die."_

_ Another pause, which I assumed whoever this man… Agent Barton?… was talking to was shocked of some sort. My senses were dulling…_

_ "Screw this, shoot Agent Barton!"_

_ I felt myself being gathered up in someone's arms._

My body was lifted and I felt a sense of déjà vu. My eyes flickered open, but they couldn't stay. However, I caught the glimpse of something blue-gray.

I groaned again. The flashbacks, or dreams, were coming in glimpses.

_A dark house. Bouncing, someone carrying me up steps._

_ Faint shouts. "Help! Anyone, she needs help!"_

_ A gasp. "My god, what happened to her?"_

_ Heavy breathing as I felt myself being lowered onto something. "Doctor, please! You have to help her!"_

_ Something cold pressed to my side… my vision turning completely black…_

I gasped and my eyes flew open. I was no longer being carried… or was that a dream? I was on some sort of cot, a medical cot if I guessed correctly.

I was in a small room that was pretty much pure white. I would have thought this was heaven, save one small detail.

A man.

He was sitting beside my bedside on a chair. I caught glimpse of him as I turned my head slightly, finding I was unable to do it anymore. My eyes flickered over him; he was dressed in a simple gray shirt and sweatpants. Dirty-blond hair fell over his face as he leaned back in the chair seemingly asleep.

Before I could decide what to do, his eyes flew open and I was filled with a sense of dread. _Gray-blue eyes…_

His mouth parted slightly and he just stared at me for a moment, before seeming to come to his senses. He reached over and pressed something out of my sight. Not a second later a door flew open and at the edge of my vision I caught someone in a white coat.

The person bent down next to me, and I saw a kindly-looking old woman with gray hair. She smiled, her expression seeming more worried than anything. "How are you feeling, my dear?"

With a start, I recognized her voice. Was it from the dreams? _No, _I remembered. _Memories…_

I tried to move my head, but it seemed very stiff. The doctor caught my gaze and nodded. I felt my body being moved upwards, but a shot of pain came and I cried out. The movement stopped. "Careful," the old woman warned. "She's lucky to be alive, let alone able to be awake."

The moment continued again, just slower this time. My eyes flickered closed again when I felt myself leaned against the wall. My legs were pulled out from under me and placed on hard floor with roughs and curves. Was that bamboo?

A voice hissed, but I didn't particularly want to know what was going on or open my eyes. Warnings of everything I'd been taught rose to my thoughts, but I ignored. _Screw that. _

My body came up from the bed and I cried out, the pain coming from my foot now. Now another voice came to light, the man, I assumed, that I saw when I woke up. "I'll carry her."

I felt myself being lifted and my body automatically stiffened. Then I felt a pair of lips brush against my ear. "Relax," a voice said, and I complied, my head falling against a hard chest.

I was lowered again, this time onto what felt like chair. I reached my fingers out and they met something hard. I traced it, eventually finding that it was, in fact, a rocking chair. I tried to open my eyes, but found that I couldn't.

I parted my lips, releasing a breath of air. "I can't… my eyes."

A gruff noise. "Everything's going to be alright," the male voice said.

My heart rate was begging to go down, but I was still wary. After all, I couldn't see, pretty much couldn't move, and had absolute no idea where I was.

There were hands around my waist, pulling me up once again. It was so light and gentle of a touch I thought for sure it was a woman's, but by the grunting I deducted that it was not. Then I felt myself being lowered again, this time into someone's lap.

I leaned my head against their chest and felt someone place their hands on my stomach. I was just drifting off when I felt a pair of lips against my ear, similar to the ones earlier-

"My name is Clint Barton."

* * *

When I woke again, I could feel pale sunlight through my eyelids, far lighter than it was when I woke up earlier. I assumed it had been a few hours, so I decided to try my luck and see if I could open my eyes.

They flickered open; once, then twice. I repeated this process over and over again, finally managing to keep them open partway.

I was on something comfortable, a human. I turned my head so I could see the person I was on.

It was the same man from when I woke up earlier, the one with the most interesting eye color I'd ever seen. He was asleep, his head against a pillow on the back of the rocking chair.

I was leaning against him, his hands resting on my stomach and mine resting on my legs. My head was a few inches from his neck and I took in his appearance carefully.

He had dirty-blond hair, which was another surprise. _Dirty-blond hair and gray-blue eyes? Very interesting combination… _It was then I noticed he was very strong, though I couldn't see his arms because a black coat covered his upper body.

Then I caught glimpse of the logo on the jacket. _Oh crud, I'm screwed… I've got to get out of here!_

He was SHIELD.

I tried to move out of his arms, but his grip was tight. By now I could move my arms and legs so I tried, but I just plain couldn't move.

It was then I noticed that the breathing of the man had slowed… what was his name, what had he whispered to me… and he was staring at me with bright, blue-gray eyes.

I was torn with a mix of emotions and thoughts. One, that I wasn't dead yet; two, I was in the arms of the enemy that was very comfortable; and three, where the hell was I?

I tried to struggle, but noticed his grip had tightened. "Whoa," he said. His voice was low. "You're safe."

I didn't stop. "If I'm safe, then let me go!"

"I can't. You're not supposed to walk by yourself if you want to heal properly."

I snarled. "You're a SHIELD agent! Why the hell would you care?"

He forced me to turn and face him, all while grapping my wrist and placing them on my legs. "I do care. So, stop struggling so I can get you to the bed!"

I watched warily as he put one arm underneath my legs and the other around me back, lifting me up like I weighed no more than a box of feathers. He moved forward a few feet then gently set me on a bed, the same cot, I recognized, that I woke up in before I fell asleep again.

I folded my legs underneath me, ignoring the sharp pain in my abdomen. My eyes never left him as he walked over and pulled the rocking chair next to my bed and sat in it, propping his head up by his elbows.

It was a stare down that neither of us was willing to back down from. Although, I could see a certain level of worry in his eyes. It made me mad. _Who is this guy?_

"Who are you?" I asked, still wary of him even though he hadn't killed me.

He straightened and held out a hand, but I didn't take it. "I'm Barton. Clint Barton."

I looked at his hand like it was a poisonous snake, then turned my gaze back to the man. "So… why aren't I dead?"

He looked confused. "Should you be?"

I sighed. "Look, Agent Barton-"

"Clint."

"_Agent Barton, _I need to know what's going on here. I need to know why I'm not dead and where the hell I am."

He clicked his tongue. "Well, Miss Black Widow," he paused, noticing me stiffen at the sound of my code name. "What? Upset that I know your name?" He chuckled. "In case you didn't know, you're world famous… actually, I should be asking what your real name is. I'm 99.9% sure it isn't Widow."

I leaned back against the wall. "That's classified."

"Oh really? I don't think the people you work for care. Or, worked."

I was instantly on high alert. "The Red Room?"

He gave me a sympathetic look. "They left you for dead. One of the people I was working with, Maria Hill, was going to kill you, but I stopped her."

I barely registered what he was saying. _Abandoned? _"Where… where are we now?"

"We are currently at a hospital in Budapest. Though I'm not sure which one, I don't speak the language and most of the doctors here don't speak English…"

I couldn't think. "What happened?"

The look he gave me wasn't one of sympathy, or anger; it was one of pure sadness. "It's a long story."

I glanced around at the worn down room and cracked walls. "I've got time."

He chuckled. It was a deep laugh that somehow made me want to smile. It gave me a funny feeling in my stomach, a warmth of some sort… _focus! _"Well," he said. "I'll tell you what happened if you tell me your real name."

I groaned. "Почему я застрял с американским идиотом?"

"I don't speak Russian."

I frowned at his smirk. "Fine, American," I hissed. "My name is Natalia Romanova."

He tiled his head. "That's an odd name. I like Natasha Romanoff better…"

I was ready to kill myself just to get out of this misery.


	24. Name?

**I have absolutely no idea where this came from.**

"Name?"

"Claire Jauntson," she replied, flicking a grape towards the ceiling then expertly catching it in her mouth.

He rolled his eyes at her showing off, but continued to read off the small piece of paper in his hands, ignoring the giant BURN THIS AFTER READING- PROPERTY OF SHIELD stamp in the corner. "Occupation?"

She rolled over and stuffed her face in the pillow, moving her feet so they rested on his lap. He laughed and reached out his pointer finger, going for the one spot that he knew where her weakness was-

"Clint!"

Yep. Defiantly her weak spot.

She giggled and aimed her foot towards his face, trying to avoid the deadly tickling finger. He ducked as she flipped over and leaned for his weak spot- a special spot just below his jaw line.

He jerked and tried to get away from her, but she pounced and pinned him on the queen sized bed, messing up the once smooth golden comforter, scooting it up so the creamy sheets were revealed. A smile crossed her face as she wrapped her legs around his middle, placing her hands on his chest. His eyes gleamed as she leaned down, when-

She grabbed the paper out of his hand and shot back to the other side of the bed, settling on the pillows and folding her legs delicately under her.

He grumbled as he sat up, mimicking her position. "Tease."

She only smirked. "You shouldn't expect much."

"But I'm your boyfriend!"

"Too bad, Barton."

He frowned. "I just got off last name basis! What happened?!"

Natasha smiled. "Men."

He stuck his tongue out at her as she glanced at the list in her hands. "Ok, let's see... name?"

Clint groaned, but responded when she glared at him. "Uh... Liam Jauntson, wife to the lovely Claire."

She put a hand to her chest, mock gasping. "I am so lucky to have such a wonderful husband! Of course, he pays for all my shopping trips..."

He collapsed on his back again, eyeing the smooth, shiny wood. "Why can't we just play boyfriend and girlfriend?"

There was a pause and he looked up alarmed. Natasha was sitting there with an unreadable expression on her face. "You," she said hesitantly. "You don't want to be married to me?"

His eyes widened and he was by her side in a flash, wrapping her in his arms. "No Nat, I was just jokin- TASHA!"

She looked up at him, her expression calm but her eyes sparkling. "Yes, Mr. Jauntson?"

"You tickled me! You faker!"

"I wouldn't be alive without being able to lie."

He groaned. "Seriously, you made me think I seriously hurt your feelings!"

Natasha smirked. "You really think you can hurt my feelings? Hate to break it to you, but it's going to take a lot more than that."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

They both stared at each other, willing for the other to break. Twenty minutes and thirty two seconds later- they both counted- Natasha won.


	25. Love and Loss

**This is kinda sad, just to warn you. Not death or anything, just... sad. It nearly killed me writing this.**

Love. What is love?

Some say it is emotions between two beings just looking for comfort. Others laugh and say that love is for fairytales. This is real life, they say with a smirk. Love? Impossible.

The dictionary describes it as a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person. Scientists say it is nothing more than a chemical reaction. This is what parents say when they are trying to convince their daughter not to go on a date with the 'bad boy' of the school.

They all say it will blow over eventually, that nothing ever ends. Life is cruel and full of suffering, tearing down bridges only to have them built with bricks. Walls will always stay guarded. Things will always stay a secret.

Yet, the world does not seem to know what love is.

She was born to a world full of love and hope, a blessing to her parents and marveled everyone by her beauty, no matter how young she was. But that one fateful day when a fire took hold of her life and destroyed it, her walls were knocked down. She was vulnerable when she was taken away by the wrong people, brainwashed and trained to kill.

She was only four when this happened.

She never knew what it was like to be held in a mother's arms, or put to bed at night with her father tucking her in. She never experienced waking up with her mother's lips on her forehead and smelling pancakes.

She never went to high school, or even dated. The people took her tutored her to make sure she knew enough, made sure that she was able to converse in several languages, but they would never replicate what parents could.

Emotion was a thinking of the past, she had once thought. On nights when she was all alone in the cold room, trying to fall asleep to the sound of the other girls' screams, she could feel the gentle caress of her cheek in the sliver of moonlight, the only ghost of her mother.

In the morning, she claimed it was just a dream.

Life moved on and she became a beautiful young lady, charming men all over the world right to their deathbeds. She was the pride of Russia, deadly and never had mercy. Her kill count was hundreds, but to the normal pedestrian, she was just another person. Just, inhumanly beautiful.

Men fell underneath her grasp, dead by the poison or the knife she kept hidden in places that no one, not even her handlers, knew where. Her mind was a blur while she was not on missions yet she didn't care; she couldn't care. Weakness was a part of life that had been given up a long time ago.

She was lost.

At least, until on her eighteenth birthday, a certain archer approached her and gave her a choice; join SHILED, or be killed. She had a hard time with this decision, but eventually accepted the stranger's hand, determined to pay back the debt.

* * *

Love. What is love?

He was born to loving parents and a caring brother. The perfect model of life, at least until his father was laid off.

His life went to hell when his father turned to drinking and often came home in a wild rage. The night his father forced his mother into a car and never returned, the little boy was no younger than seven. He still remembers waiting at the large glass window, the snow falling outside, for his mother to come home.

His brother quickly turned to the same path as his father. Drunk and abusive, the boy had to hide when his only companion came home. His brother never cared to send him to school until he was nine years old and the state came. They took him away from his brother and placed him in a century old orphanage.

A few years after, his brother hopped through his window, seemingly a changed boy. He had cleaned up his act and was ready to take his only family back. The younger suggested they join the circus. After a few laughs, the older agreed he was right, and ruffled his brother's hair.

They ran away and joined the circus. At first they only worked to clean-up crew after the show and took care of the animals, but the little boy was content. His brother, however, was not.

That one fateful day when the little boy, now the age of eleven, picked up a slingshot to defend himself from bullies at the circus. Little did he know, the famed Trickshot was watching him from the shadows.

After beating the boys, the younger boy was shocked to find out that he was seen. He had hung his head, ready to be thrown out. Instead, the famed master of archery offered him a deal.

Little boy, he had said. You have incredible aim. He had offered to take him under his wing and train him to become the next circus attraction.

His brother quickly grew jealous and turned often began disappearing at night. One night, the little boy who was no longer little followed him. He was shocked to find his older brother, his role model, stealing from helpless people. He intervened and was nearly killed.

He was lost.

At least, until a certain Phil Coulson approached him a few years later and offered him a new life, a better one. At first he refused, but when the older man gently told him that his brother was dead, the eighteen year old boy accepted.

* * *

They were both lost. They were both ready to kill for the sake of it, just to live for the next day. She did in fact, and he almost did. But as a beacon Phil Coulson appeared for him, just like he, a few years after he joined SHILED and a little after he turned twenty, appeared for her.

He saw himself in her. He saw a lost and broken creature that didn't deserved to be killed. Everyone deserved to live, everyone deserved a second chance.

However, not all people shared his views. When he carried an unconscious enemy onto the helicarrier, his boss was not happy. Not happy at all.

He was yelled at yes, but the whole time he was thinking that it was worth it. He didn't care if they threw him off the helicarrier, if it meant she was getting a new life.

Luckily, after much decisions, he wasn't thrown off. In fact, after seeing her fight in person, Nick Fury offered the younger man a promotion.

She was dangerous. He knew that she could kill him in the time it took him to butter his toast. But he also knew she wouldn't. After a few years of partnership, she finally warmed up to him. Then came the love and loss, the pain and torture.

But it didn't matter. To each other, written for all the world to see, was them together. They never trusted anyone else. If you messed with the spider, you got the hawk. If you messed with the hawk, you got the spider.

They broke down each other's walls, while unconsciously letting down their guards. They were one of a kind, two names that were feared above all, whispered in private all around the world.

They were Clint and Natasha, Hawkeye and Black Widow.


	26. Dying

**I had no idea where this came from. It just hit me when I was about to go to bed and I had to get up and write it. I must be sad or something.**

_He stepped into the foyer, glancing around through his sleepy filed eyes. Tony was with Pepper near the large windows, quietly arguing about something; Clint could always tell when the CEO was angry. She was just a little bit like Natasha when she was upset, with a set jaw and narrowed eyes. _

_ He continued looking around, but his head didn't seem to be in a hurt as he leaned against the wall, his hands going behind his head. His eyes flickered to where Thor was standing in front of the microwave, clearly waiting for something to cook. There was a beep and Steve looked up, startled, from his newspaper, eyes wide. He still wasn't used to all this technology and noise._

_ Bruce mumbled something under his breath from the arm chair underneath the TV, while sipping a cup of steaming coffee. Funny. You would think that something that hot would make him Hulk out, but the doctor was right; he really did have a lid on it, according to the SHIELD security camera Fury had made Clint watch after his… abduction._

_ A pain struck his heart as Loki's cold words washed over him. You have heart… He shook his head and grunted lightly, but it was enough to gain attention from Tony, who paused his argument and glanced over at the archer. He hadn't shaved yet, so the billionaire looked a little ragged. "Clint?"_

_ Clint nodded, then raised a questioning eyebrow at Pepper, who was staring at Tony with annoyance. Tony responded with a slight nod of the head, then turned back to face his girlfriend._

_ Clint rolled his eyes. Always keeping those feelings in… it was then he realized that someone was missing. A wave of panic shot through him; she was usually up before any of them, and when he had passed her room on the way in it was ajar, but empty. "Where's Natasha?"_

_ Steve looked up briefly, then back at his magazine. "Roof."_

_ The archer raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"_

_ Bruce's mouth became a firm line. "She's on the roof."_

_ Clint quickly glanced out the window. "But… it's snowing."_

_ Before any of the men could respond, Pepper threw up her hands in disgust. "You know what," she half yelled. "Fine! Do it yourself, see if I care!" She turned on her heel and stormed out of the nearest door, which happened to be the hallway leading to the training room._

_ Tony's expression was one of frustration. "Barton," he snapped. "Your partner is the roof. She's being idiotic and is on the roof."_

_ Clint frowned and stood up straight from his position on the wall. "What's wrong with Pepper-"_

_ Tony waved a hand to cut him off, but his movements were far from casual. "Nothing. Just… go get Romanoff is off the roof." He turned and left the room in a similar fashion to Pepper, but in the opposite direction, this time heading into the elevator and down to the lobby._

_ Clint just stood there, stunned. What was going on?_

_ Just like Bruce said, she was on the roof._

_ Seeing how it was around noon, the sun was out, but it was faint considering it was the middle of winter in New York. His jaw dropped when he noticed that she was wearing nothing but a simple black tank top and shorts._

_ He rushed over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Nat," he said urgently. "You should be inside-"_

_ She let out a laugh, but it was anything but joyful. "Have you ever wondered," she almost whispered, "what it is like to die?"_

_ He froze. "Nat," he said slowly. "Are you okay?"_

_ She moved her head a little and he saw her eyes were filled with darkness. "Answer the question," she snarled._

_ Clint felt his heart rate speeding up. "Nat," he started, but before he continued she jumped off of the building._

_ He felt his whole world stop as she fell to the ground, silent and looking up at him. Her green eyes were filled with an unsettling evil and she had almost reached the ground-_

He gasped and shot up in bed, sweating like crazy. He glanced around wildly. Pale sunlight was streaming through the windows and the neon letters of the clock told that it was early morning. He nearly jumped out of bed and threw the curtains up.

No snow.

Clint sank to the floor, knees to his chest and head in his hands. _It was just a dream, _he told himself. _Just a dream. Nat's not dead, Pepper and Tony aren't fighting-_

A sudden knock on the door caused him to start. "Clint?" a very familiar voice asked. "Breakfast is ready. Tony had some breakfast place on the corner deliver.

He shot up and bolted across the room, grasping the wooden handle and throwing the door open.

Natasha stood there with a slight smile on her face, but it disappeared as soon as she saw the panicked expression on his.

"Clint," she started, but she didn't get any farther when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest, holding her as tight as possible.

After a few moments he felt her relax and put her arms around his neck, resting her head on his chest. "Thank god," he murmured, his words slightly muffled by her hair.

"Care to tell me what's wrong?"

He pulled her away from him and grasped her upper arms. "Everything is perfect."


	27. The Story

Natasha collapsed onto the couch, exhausted, only to be pounced on a few seconds later. She smiled as something buried itself into her side, then looked up with gray blue eyes.

"Mama," her seven year old son said slowly. "Can I hear a story?"

She opened her mouth, but it was then her husband walked in the room. His arms were full of firewood and he had earmuffs on, but by the smirking look on his face he had heard his son's comment. He dumped to wood next to the fire, ignoring Natasha's cries of protests, and settled next to his wife and child, wrapping an arm around both of them.

He chuckled. "Daniel, I have the perfect story to tell you tonight."

Natasha shot a glare at him, knowing exactly what he was thinking, but he didn't care. "I'm going to tell you the story of how your mother and I met."

The little boy bounced up and down. "Really?" He could barely believe it, for his parents had always refused to tell him this story, saying that he was hear it when he was older.

"I believe you're old enough. Here's how it goes-"

His wife shot a warning glare. "Clint," she said slowly. "I don't think it's a good idea…"

He waved a hand. "I think he's old enough. Now, where was I…"

_"What is love?"_ he asked, causing a shiver to go through the boy.

_"Love is a chemical reaction between two people, in the words of a scientist. Love is the magic in the air, the words of a therapist. Love is loss, in the words of a young girl who had everything torn from her that fateful day in the fire._

_ That young girl never knew love. She never knew what it was liked to be tucked in by her mother and feel a gentle kiss on her cheek. She never knew the joy of waking up in the morning to the smell of pancakes and scrambled eggs, to run into the kitchen and leap into her father's arms._

_ She was born an innocent, yet raised to be an assassin._

_ None was her fault, though she pondered it often. She wondered whether she was good to her parents, but she never knew. That life was taken away from her when she was no younger than four years old._

_ Fighting was all she had ever known. The loss, the agony of pain; it was all so familiar, yet so strange. Nights were spent of secret missions, not playing with dolls. She never went to high school, having been tutored by the finest in Russia. She never had the normal experience of an average life._

_ Yet, he didn't either. His parents were killed at a young age and he was sent away to an orphanage, torn away from his brother. His brother, however, never cared about him. The young boy never knew what it was like to be loved, though his parents were taken when he was a little older than the girl._

_ His companions were elephants and clowns, his weapon a bow. He amazed crowds all over the world, shooting with accuracy that only his trainer could match. Yet that one fateful day come once again, when he caught his mentor killing people and stealing from them._

_ He was lost and felt like there was no meaning to life. At least, until a certain Phil Coulson waltzed into it and offered him a helping hand."_

Daniel squeaked. "Phil!"

Natasha laughed. "Yes Daniel, that was Phil." Her eyes met her husband's over their son's head, and her eyes softened. "Without him, we would have never met."

Clint cleared his throat. "Anyway…"

_"He got back on his feet and was eventually able to build a reputation as Hawkeye, the feared assassin of SHIELD. She, however, was not so lucky. At least, until her eighteenth birthday, when the famed archer was assigned a mission. A mission that was not assigned in blind and was no accident. _

_ This is the story of how the two deadliest people on earth fell in love."_

* * *

_He slapped his arm across his beat alarm clock and sat up warily, rubbing his eye with one hand and with the other groping for the light switch. He found it and flicked it on, revealing the gray colored room._

_ His feet met the cold, wooden floor as he got out of bed, flinching slightly when a brush of cold air hit his arms. He quickly moved to close the open window and tied to fluttering curtains down. When this was done he threw open the door and stepped into the living room._

_ It was a small apartment, yet it suited him just right with the gray paint and simple furniture. He made his way to the kitchen, pausing only when he noticed that his cell phone was blinking. He grasped a mug from one of the top shelves and poured steaming hot coffee into it. Then he brought it to his lips, eyes still blinking sleep from them._

_ It startled him when a holo-graphic screen popped up on the wall facing him, and the familiar face of his mentor came into view. The archer held back a curse as he jerked back, coffee spilling all over his hands._

_ He heard a chuckle as he turned around the dunked the rest of the drink into the sink and reached for the roll of paper towels. Without turning around, he grimaced. "What do you want? I'm not supposed to be at headquarters 'till noon." Then he paused. "Wait, right?"_

_ His mentor laughed. "That's correct. I just needed to go over a few things with you."_

_ Clint turned around, rolling his eyes. "I know, I know… the director's assigning me a very important mission and I shouldn't mess it up." He completed his sentence with a nagging finger, a very distinct impression of Coulson._

_ The older man would have laughed, but he knew he had to keep the tiniest shred of being professional around the younger man. If he didn't, Fury would have his job. "Anyway, just remember to be respectful."_

_ The blue-gray eyes rolled again. "Jeez, I know already! You gave me this speech about five more times than usual yesterday!" Then his eyes narrowed. "Wait a second… you already know what my mission is!"_

_ Coulson's look was one of the classic oops. "Uh," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Gotta go, Fury's calling me!"_

_ Clint opened his mouth, but the screen disappeared before he could say anything. The archer groaned. "And he calls me the stubborn one."_

* * *

_A searing pain to her side woke her, causing her to roll out of bed and shoot up in a fighting stance._

_ The cruel smile of Ivan greeted her, along with the slow clapping of his hands. "Very good, Natalia," he murmured. "But you still need to be faster."_

_ With the motion of his hand, two large men made his way towards the girl. She blinked sleep out of her eyes as they advanced on her. When they were in range she sent a kick towards the one on the left and it connected with his jaw. The man stumbled backwards, while his opponent took this chance to lunge for her._

_ She leapt into the air and landed on his shoulders, pushing him to the ground. With a satisfied look she whirled back to Ivan and bowed slightly. When he tapped his cane against the floor she rose. _

_ He nodded. "Now that is better, my young pupil. I have a mission for you."_

_ With a quick look at the men on the ground, she responded. "Of course. Where will I be going this time?"_

_ "Do you remember Mister Quincy Ramirez?"_

_ And she did. "The Spanish drug dealer?"_

_ Ivan nodded. "Indeed. He has been…" the man paused with a smirk coming over his features. "Double crossing us, as you would say. I need you to take him out."_

_ She nodded, though her mind had already left the room and was thinking of ways to kill the man. "When will I leave?"_

_ "A few hours. Pack your things, my dear. We will supply you money to buy something nice. After all, you are going to one of the most unique places in the world."_

* * *

_He sank into the chair, eyeing the director. "Sir," he said, nodding. "You have a mission for me?"_

_ In the corner, Coulson adjusted his tie, but the younger agent barely noticed. "I do, Agent Barton." Fury pressed a button and an image was projected onto the table._

_ He stared in awe as he took in the girl's pale skin, piercing green eyes and dark expression. Fury cleared his throat. "This is Natalia Romanova, also known as Natasha Romanoff. However, you may also know her by the Black Widow."_

_ A shiver ran down his spine. Everyone knew the Black Widow. She had killed countless SHIELD agents without any mercy. Her kill number was over 200 people. Clint's was far less, especially since he had joined SHIELD._

_ Fury nodded at his expression. "I see you have heard of her."_

_ "Who hasn't?"_

_ Coulson sent a glare at the man, but Clint didn't notice. "What do you want me to do with her?"_

_ Fury exchanged a glance with the woman beside him, Agent Hill. "We need you to kill her."_

* * *

_She shifted in her seat, tapping her fingers against the arm rest. First class was a wonderful was to travel, but having done it so much in the arms of billionaires, it had gotten quite boring._

_ There was the crackling of the intercom. "Attention passengers, we are descending over Paris now. I hope you had a nice flight."_

_ Inwardly, she smiled. She was ready._

* * *

_He paced along SHIELD's private, drawing odd glances. He didn't want to have to kill an eighteen year old girl, but he knew he had to._

_ "Attention, we are ready for landing."_

_ He nervously checked to make sure his guns were in place. He was ready. He had to be._

* * *

_She stepped into the great room, immediately feeling every eye on her. The men, she realized with disgust, were almost drooling. The women were just shooting daggers at her, for their husbands and boyfriends were no longer focused on them._

_ And she hid a smile. It was working._

_ For this night, she had chosen a long, strapless, creamy dress that went down to the floor, hiding her silver heels. Her hair fell in vibrant waves down her back; a delicate necklace circled her neck, a single diamond in the center of the chain. She didn't care about the stares, but her eyes drifted to a man in the corner. Their eyes met, and instantly she could tell he wasn't like the rest. _

_ For starters, he didn't have a designer suit on, only a simple one. He had brown hair that stood up slightly- no hair gel, that's different- and gray blue eyes that seemed to scan the room in a single second, then not move at all._

_ He caught her eyes and she fought the urge to flee. There was something about him… it's probably nothing. Just focus on the mission._

* * *

_His head was turned towards the stage when a collective gasp reached the room, and the whispers started._

_ "Oh my, what a beautiful dress…"_

_ "Man, she's hot!"_

_ He turned his head, a bit uninterested, but hey, he was bored. Then he saw her._

_ She was stunning._

_ As she made her way across the room, he couldn't take his eyes off her. He swallowed. That's the Black Widow. Oh damn._

_ This mission was going to be harder than he thought it would be._

_ He tore his gaze away from her for a few seconds when she decided to meet his eyes, and he was worried she would somehow discover that he was sent to kill her._

* * *

_She made her way to the bar, ignoring all the ogling men. They were disgusting, but it was one way to get her job done._

_ By the looks of it, her target had not arrived yet, so she had time for a quick drink. She slipped into a bar stool and tucked her dress underneath her. Then she brought her hand to her hair and tucked a loose curl in place, then turned her head back to the barman. She quickly scanned the menu and ordered a small drink, nothing too big. She could handle alcohol, but generally tried to avoid drinking too much on a mission._

_ It let her guard down._

_ The tall drink was set down in front of her and she muttered thanks, then brought the glass to her lips. The drink was refreshing._

_ Suddenly, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned her head and brought her gaze up and down at the man in front of her and fought the urge to laugh. He was one of those snotty types, the ones that only drank and partied without a care in the world._

_ He bowed slightly, then spoke with a brilliant accent. "Would you care to dance?"_

_ She giggled, but it was only for show. "No thank you, mister." When she stared to bring the drink up to her lips again, she felt his hand clasp her wrist._

_ She flinched at the contact, and suddenly wasn't very happy. His eyes stared at her expectantly. "Surly you would like one dance? Only one, I promise."_

_ When she shook her head, the man grew angry. "Dance with me," he repeated._

_ She tore her hand out the man's grip and turned back towards the bat._

_ Then she felt his hands on her shoulders. _

_ Her eyes widened, but before she could do anything she felt his hands come off her shoulders. She spun around just in time to see the man stumbling backwards, having been pushed by a person who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere._

_ She looked up at her savior, a bit angry that she didn't get to beat him herself. But then her breath caught in her throat._

_ It was the man she had seen when she walked in._

* * *

_He didn't know what had possessed him to rush over here and throw the man away from her, but the moment his hands had touched her wrist he had felt a strange sense of protectiveness. He turned to her. "Are you alright, miss?"_

_ He could tell she was angry that she didn't get to hurt the man herself. "I was fine," she hissed._

_ Clint took a seat right next to her and leaned towards her, his lips millimeters away from her ear. "But that would blow your cover, Widow."_

_ She froze._

* * *

Daniel yawned, causing his mother to lift him gently from his father's lap to hers. She stood up and motioned to their son, who was slowly falling asleep. Clint stopped talking and smiled. "Tomorrow," he promised to the sleeping boy. "You'll hear the rest tomorrow."

"I'll be right back," she whispered, leaving the room.

After a few moments she returned, having tucked her son into bed. She slid beside her husband on the couch, tucking her head in the crook of his neck.

For a moment, the only sound was the flickering of the fire. Then Clint let out a low laugh. "I always love that story."

Natasha smiled, then moved her head closer to his ear. "I know," she murmured. "But my favorite part is the ending."

His grin grew wider as he turned his head, capturing her lips in his.

* * *

**The End~**


	28. Red

_SHIELD Helicarrier, 16:28_

"Your mission," the dark skinned man said slowly, his black eye patch gleaming in the harsh light," is very dangerous. Deadly even; no one we have sent has been able to injure her, let alone kill."

At twenty two years old, four years a SHIELD agent, Clinton Barton, or Clint, as he preferred, was used to being startled at his boss' strange wording. His rough fingers tapped the glass table rhythmically as he leaned back slightly in the comfy chair. He ran a hand through his dirty blond hair and focused his sharp blue eyes on his superior. "Wait," he said lazily. "More so than usual? In case you hadn't noticed, dangerous is an occupational hazard; hell, deaths around here are more numerous than ants at a picnic."

The older man gave a sharp nod to the person standing near the door. A manila folder was dropped in front of the youngest man in the room, causing Clint to start for a split second, then settle back into his seat. He flicked the folder open with the tip of his fingernail, causing a flash of red to appear to his eyes. Now more curious than professional-though he never really met the standards of being professional, something his handler complained about daily-he leaned forward and picked the folder up, opening it so the left side lay limp on the table.

He was met with a simple picture at the top of a white sheet; below it lay thousands of black words, printed there as if by accident. But his eyes were not focused on the letters, but instead the stunning woman on the small, yet detailed, photograph.

She was a thin and pale red-head with sharp green eyes; her height looked to be about 5'8 to his trained eyes, though he guessed there would be exact measurements down further in the file. Judging from her skin-tight evening dress, she had to be an heiress of some sort; that, or she was a clever thief. Considering she was in his mission files, it was most likely the latter.

"Who's she?" When there was no answer, Clint looked up. "Fury?"

The African American man gave him a scrutinizing gaze before clearing his throat, as if reconsidering his decision to show the marksman the folder. "Her name is Natalia Romanov, known by a variety of aliases; Natalia Rushman, Laura Matthers, Natasha Romanoff, and Yelena Belova."

Clint raised a blond eyebrow. "Russian?"

A quick bow of the head confirmed his words. "You may know her best by Black Widow."

His eyes widened and he dropped the folder, causing it to hit the table with a smack; a second later he scrambled for it again, throwing it open and flipping it until he reached what he was looking for.

_Kill count, _it read in scrawny, handwritten type, _is an estimated 247. The number grows by the day; the hour, even._

Clint paused, then flipped a few more pages, landing finally on the biography. It was written in the same handwriting as before, so much more recent than the rest of the typed packet.

_Natalia Romanov was born in November, 1984 to Jovan Romanov and Lila Kharzin in a small hospital near Moscow; the hospital burned down a few months later, destroying any records save a few that were hidden in a metal safe a few feet under the building itself, Natalia Romanov's included._

The archer paused in his reading. "Interesting last name," he commented, before his voice trailed off, suddenly realizing he couldn't pronounce the Russian surname.

Fury's mouth was set in a firm line. "Keep reading."

Clint looked down and continued, quickly finding his spot among the mist of black ink.

_A few years after her birth, Romanov and his wife were killed after fire - by explosives-was set to their house by a rival of the man, whose work as a scientist provided vast income for the small family. Natalia was outside with her mother at the time; Lila shielded her daughter from the flying debris and was unfortunately killed in the process. Jovan was killed upon impact. From this point in time, Natalia seemingly vanished off the face of the earth. Her parents were buried at a nearby cemetery and in their will it stated that the young girl was to be given possession of their house and money; since she was unable to be found, the property was handed over to the government and the money donated to the local orphanage a few miles down the road._

_ Twelve years later, the ambassador to Ecuador was found dead in his hotel room, hanging from a cruelly fashioned loop, while on vacation in Italy, seemingly committed suicide. Upon further investigation, authorities caught a strand of long, curly red hair in the corner. Not twenty four hours later, security camera caught a girl of fifteen - fitting the description of the girl who had checked into the hotel that the ambassador was at - drawing money out of a secure account a few cities over. Aging software confirmed Natalia's picture from when she was younger._

_ In 1991, SHIELD became aware of a Russian training facility known as the Red Room. It is designed to take children from the age of three or older and train them to become spies for "Mother Russia." When we sent people in, they were killed almost immediately, but not before being able to obtain the name of the leader of this program and its students. Miss Romanov's files were found in this information, along with a Russian elder named Ivan; we later discovered that Ivan was the rival of the late Jovan Romanov, he being the one that had set fire to their house all those years ago and taken Natalia._

Clint let out a low whistle and leaned back in his chair, no longer interested in playing games. He knew this was serious business. "She disappeared for twelve years and SHIELD couldn't find her? Impressive."

Fury scowled even more than he usually did; quite a record. But then he paused in the middle of starting to lecture the young agent, and just settled for a simple frown. "I – we – need you to kill her."

The archer paused his tapping fingers before glancing back down at the folder and turning it to another page, where her age lay in black and white. His eyes widened. "No way in hell!"

Coulson stepped from his place in the corner. "Clint-"

He stood up, palms slamming against the table. "She's a freakin' kid!"

"Seventeen," Fury corrected with a hint of amusement in his voice – Clint didn't see what was so funny. "Most certainly not a child."

Clint rounded on his handler. "She's as old as I was," he hissed towards the older man.

Coulson shot a look a Fury, as if to ask 'what do I do' but it didn't matter.

The glass door swung back and forth, revealing to Fury and Coulson Clint's departure. But neither of the men noticed the pale folder was no longer settled against the glass.

* * *

_New York City, 20:19_

Hands dug deeply into his pockets and head bowed down, Clint made his way down the nearly deserted street, occasionally muttering apologies when he bumped into someone. The rain was pouring and he knew that he really should be at his warm apartment at this moment, but he really needed to take a walk.

_Seventeen. _The word bounced around his head, refusing to budge or even trail off. _She's as old as I was, _he had yelled at Coulson.

And that was true, to the most part. He had been a few days away from his eighteenth birthday, living a life of thievery and crime – hating every second of it – before he had been caught at the peak of his career, during his most dangerous heist yet. It wasn't that the object that he had been aiming for was difficult to find, or even heavily guarded; it was that it was the first time SHIELD had intervened.

When the bomb blew up the warehouse – it was supposed to be the main parlor, inside some rich guy's house, but SHIELD have moved the offending object, unable to disable it – Clint was knocked unconscious from rogue debris; when he woke up, he was handed a manila folder by none other than Phil Coulson, who offered him a job at SHIELD. Not that he wasn't gratefully for getting away from that life, but wouldn't everything have just been easier if he was killed in the blast? He wouldn't have to come to terms with killing a seventeen-year-old girl.

Suddenly something bumped into him roughly and he stumbled back, quickly finding his footing against the wet concrete. His mouth opened to yell a warning at the offending person, but stops short when he gets a glimpse of them – _her_.

Normally bouncy, red curls are drenched and the oncoming rain makes her eye color appear a few shades darker than its usual emerald green, but she was easily recognizable. He swallowed.

She regarded him curiously, before giving a sharp nod and slipping past him, leaving the archer standing there, dumbfounded, as he jerked around and watched her retreating form slip away, as if just an illusion between the raindrops.

_But it wasn't, _he realized as he suddenly became more aware of the pale folder hidden underneath his jacket, pressed harshly to his side. Then he snapped back into focus and hurried after her, only to be stopped short when a wave of people cut off his path. He tried to push past them, but by the time he managed to get through the crowd, she was gone.

He stood there for a moment, the rain dripping into his hair and down his jacket, and inwardly he's cursing himself for his stupidity. But then he heard a yell and his head jerked back up just as he was shoved sideways.

He hit the ground hard and let out a curse – a mother nearby shoots him a _very _dirty look before ushering her little boy as far away from Clint as possible – before he felt something pressed to his temple. He turned his head just the slightest fraction to see a gun.

_Crud._

But then the weight is gone, and this time Clint is flying through the air. He hit a brick wall and let out a groan, before crumpling to the ground, blinking frantically to keep his vision.

Just as black spot appear, he sees a flash of red. And it isn't blood.

* * *

_Unknown_

_He doesn't wake up for days; he knows this because he's been semi-conscious, only hearing thumps and the ticks of a grandfather clock._

_ The days go by and the ticks continue, ringing every twelve hours. He wants to open his eyes, he wants to see where he is – but he can't._

_ He wants to see who's been wiping his face with a cloth every night, who's been force feeding him medicine. He wants to see who's been whispering words of comfort into his ear right before the second chime of the day comes, right before midnight; he wants to know who's been covering him with a blanket, whose soft hair has been brushing against his cheek every night when they whisper goodnight._

_ He's begging – no, praying – that it's not a guy._

_ Coulson would never let him live that down._

_ And it would just be plain creepy._

_ But more importantly, he's wondering why the hell he can't wake up. He can hear and smell – a few days back the aroma of waffles reached his nose a few days back – but he can't move or speak. He can't open his eyes to see where the hell he is, or why someone has been taking care of him so well._

_ Didn't he crash into a brick wall?_

_ He knows it isn't a hospital; those rotten buildings had a certain smell to them, and hell of a lot louder. It isn't a hotel; there's no beeping of the door, no noise at all, really. Only soft footsteps of whoever is taking care of him._

_ It was getting annoying. Very, very annoying._

_ When he just about falls asleep again, he feels the weight – he thinks it's a couch – of the furniture dip, and then soft fingers run across his forehead. Then-_

"You better get well or I'll kick your задница. I cannot afford to have a civilian die. Not with my goals."

_Female voice. Fantasic. Civilian? That a relief. She don't know he's an agent. But wait…Russian? It can't be her, it can't-_

"My name is Natalia."

_ Oh…he's screwed._

* * *

_Sorry the ending is a little rushed; I've had the first part on my iPad for about a week now, and I just needed to finish it. __Wounds__ is not finished, I'm just having a few problems with school._


	29. Late Nights

_Just a bit of Clintasha fluff. Hope you like!_

* * *

His eyes are squinted shut from the long drive in the burning sunlight as he makes his way up the many steps to his apartment. He nearly slips on the third from the top but manages to catch himself before he falls flat on his face – he knew that somehow, somewhere, Natasha would have some kind of sixth sense and know he tripped, and make fun of him when she got back from whatever crazy mission she was on – and continued carefully, making sure not to drop any of the many bags in his hands.

He swiftly pulls a key out of his left pocket when he's inches away from the front door; it slides into the key slot with only the slightest scrap and the door swings open silently, banging lightly against the adjoining wall and Clint steps in, his footsteps barely echoing alone the tile floor of the small entry way. He reaches the kitchen within a few minutes – due to the fact that his apartment was kind of small, SHIELD didn't exactly give the highest salary, even though he was one of the organizations best assassins – and nearly threw the bags down on the floor and collapsed into one of the two, wooden backed chairs, placing his head into one palm.

Clint let out a barely audible sigh as one foot begins to tap against the tile. He suddenly feels a slight wave of heat and kicks off one shoe, then the other, and reaches out a hand to press the white button on the wall. The fan starts with a slight jump and begins to blow fresh air into the room, and Clint goes back into the chair.

Suddenly he hears a small cry and freezes; there shouldn't be anyone in his house, and he closed all the windows before he left, so that either means that his house has been broken into or…_Natasha._

With a slight chuckle he stands up, pausing for a second when his elbow cracks against the marble, but after letting out a curse he continues, slipping into the dimly lit hallway and going a few feet before stopped at a door at the end of the hall, one of three. He grasps the handle firmly and pushes the door open.

A sliver of light runs into the room, falling upon the bed. Clint holds back a laugh when the light reveals red curls among the pillow. He makes his way towards the bed and slowly crawls on, slowly lowering his head on the pillow and slinking one arm around his partner's middle, pulling her closer to him and burying his head his her curls.

After a moment she stirs, then he feels her stiffen. But then she relaxes, pushes herself closer to him, and murmurs, "You know, I could have killed you for that."

He lets out a chuckle. "Nat," he says quietly, and that's all it takes before she moves slightly away – he feels the lost of body heat for a split second – and twists around, lifting up the covers. It's then he realizes that's she's dressed in short sweat pants and a tank top, and freezes for a second while she slides the blue and gray comforter over him, then curls up with her back to him.

It quiet for a moment, but then Clint speaks. "How'd you get into my apartment?"

"I broke in. How else?"

He groans, but then buries his nose deeper into her hair, breathing in her sweet, apple scent. When he speaks it's slightly muffled, but she can hear anyway; his lips are centimeters from her ear. "Does that mean I have to get Tasha-proof locks?"

He feels a sharp elbow in his stomach, but instead just grins and holds her tighter.

* * *

_And that, my friends, brings an end to these one-shots. I will always ship Clintasha, but I am entering into high school now, which comes with many more responsibilities. I hope that I will still be able to write stories, but _**Wounds** _has unfortunately come to an end. Hope you enjoyed, because I know that I enjoyed watching how my writing style has varied throughout this year._

_Best wishes to everyone one their stories._

_Oh! And don't forget to read _**I Dare You **_by _shadowsontherun_. It's an amazing story about Clint and Natasha, and although many of you have probably already read it, I encourage though who haven't to go and read straight away. Warning: It has the ability to drive you absolutely nuts, but you seem to have the inability to put down whatever device you are reading it on. Trust me, I've been following this story from the very beginning, and I - quite truly - squeal like the teenage girl I am when I see the update in my inbox._


End file.
